Timestruck

by Speer, Flora

  “I won’t,” she said, turning away to hide her face from him. She didn’t want him to see the tears his persistent kindness had caused. “I can’t.”

  “As you wish. But know this, Gina: I stand ready to help you, by armed force if need be. If there is truly nothing I can do, then I am willing to listen, and to keep your secrets. I do not betray my friends.”

  He left her then and headed into the house without looking back, leaving her filled with yearnings she was afraid to examine too closely. Instead, she thought about what he had said.

  Dominick was the strangest man she had ever met. How could he think of her as a friend when he hadn’t even known her for a full day, when he knew nothing about her? Could there be people in this time who actually refused to betray a trust?

  Never in her life had Gina known someone she could depend upon completely. In her experience, everyone always had a private agenda, and letting Gina down at a crucial moment was usually part of that agenda.

  She almost dared to hope that Dominick was different. Perhaps if she stayed in the eighth century long enough, a time would come when she could tell him the truth about how she had reached Feldbruck. But not yet. Not yet.

  However, she had discovered a way to connect with him. She didn’t like being manipulative, but she couldn’t see that she had any choice. She would tell Dominick about her past, leaving out the fact that she had been born in a different century. Then she would encourage him to talk about his own life, and she’d listen carefully for any information that might help her to get back to New York.

  Judging by what Hedwiga and Ella had told her, she and Dominick had a lot more in common than he knew.

  Dominick left the garden with a new possibility to consider. It hadn’t previously occurred to him that Gina could be forced into a scheme she didn’t want to be part of out of fear for her life, or for the life of someone she loved. If she was being coerced, and Dominick could prove it, when he took her to the royal court he could plead with Charles to save her life. The eagerness with which he contemplated the opportunity to prove her a victim rather than a conspirator shook the very foundations of the orderly world he had built for himself over the past few years.

  He told himself he had no choice in the matter. He was honor-bound to uncover the real reason for Gina s presence in his home.

  Chapter 4

  At Feldbruck the main meal was at midday. Dominick’s entire household gathered in the wood-paneled great hall to feast on game birds roasted on a spit over the kitchen fire, a vegetable stew, and a tart made of custard flavored with walnuts and dried apples.

  Only Dominick sat in a chair. Everyone else was on a bench or a stool, including Gina, who was given a place of honor on the bench next to Dominick.

  There were no forks. Gina stared at the wooden bowl in front of her and at the spoon that looked as if it was made out of cream-colored plastic, and she wondered how she was expected to eat without a knife or fork. Dominick came to her rescue.

  “Since you have no knife of your own, I’ll cut some meat for you,” he said, reaching for the platter of roasted birds a servant had set before him.

  Gina watched as he neatly sliced a piece of breast meat from one of the birds, speared it on the point of his blade, and offered it to her. She did the only thing she could; using her fingers, she lifted the meat off Dominick’s knife and ate it. Then, since there were no napkins, she licked her fingers. Everyone around her was doing the same, except for the men-at-arms, who were eating directly from their knives. Gina tried to be dainty about licking her fingers, and she guessed she was succeeding, for no one remarked on her table manners or lack thereof. The vegetable stew was easier to deal with.

  “What is this spoon made of?” she asked, lifting a mouthful of the tasty stew to her lips.

  “There is a man here at Feldbruck who is skilled in making many useful objects out of horn,” Dominick answered. “Each autumn after the butchering is done, he collects the horns from the slaughtered animals, cures them, and spends the winter carving new utensils.”

  The explanation made sense to Gina. She had once read in a magazine that horn spoons were preferred over silver for eating caviar. The salt in caviar tarnished silver but did not affect horn. She chuckled to herself at the thought. She had never tasted caviar, and she wasn’t likely to do so here at Feldbruck. Still, she couldn’t regret that particular loss, for to her newly awakened taste buds all the food served at Dominick’s table was delicious. The fresh, homemade bread was especially good, dark and chewy and still warm from the oven. It was better than any bread she had ever tasted in the twentieth century. She ate three thick slices, much to Hedwiga’s approval.

  “The more you eat, the sooner you will be completely well again,” the chatelaine said. “You are much too thin for good health or good looks.”

  “That’s a switch,” Gina murmured to herself. “And here I thought a woman had to be thin to be beautiful.”

  After the meal began, a heavyset, middle-aged man arrived in the hall and took a place at the head table, where Dominick, Gina, and Hedwiga were sitting. Dominick introduced the man to Gina as Arno, the overseer of Feldbruck farmland. The two men fell into a serious discussion of crops. From then on, neither paid much attention to Gina, which was fine with her. She found Dominick’s household an interesting place, and she entertained herself by trying to guess what each person in the hall did for a living.

  As the meal ended Ella approached Gina, bringing with her the man with whom she had been sitting at one of the lower tables.

  “This is my Harulf,” Ella said, blushing a little.

  Harulf was a brawny fellow with pale brown hair and a luxuriant mustache that drooped down on either side of his mouth in a style that many of the men-at-arms wore. Gina noticed how he regarded Ella with something close to adoration. When Harulf spoke to the girl his voice was soft, and his touch on her arm was gentle. Observing the way Harulf treated Ella, Gina decided that perhaps her new friend was right and Harulf was one of those rare men who wouldn’t hurt the woman he claimed to love.

  “Friend,” Gina said softly, testing the word, and the idea. “If even a fierce man-at-arms can have a kind heart, which I think Harulf does, then why can’t I have a friend in Ella?”

  After the remains of the meal were cleared away, Hedwiga told Gina and Ella to fold and put away the laundry they had spread out to dry during the morning. That meant they had to pay a visit to Dominick’s room, to store his shirts and clean underclothes in the wooden chest on which his books rested.

  Dominick wasn’t there. Gina had heard him telling Hedwiga that he and Arno were going to ride out to inspect a newly cleared field that was being prepared for planting with a late-summer crop. Gina stood looking around his room, still amazed to see no sign of her precipitous arrival through the ceiling plaster. She was intensely aware of Dominick’s presence in every item, every stick of furniture in the room. His sword was gone. She supposed he was wearing it. Everything else was just as she had seen it at daybreak – or would be after she replaced his books.

  Kneeling beside the clothing chest, she picked up the books one by one, stroking their leather bindings as she restacked them on the lid Ella had just shut. She held the book containing the painting of the angel against her bosom, thinking of angels flying. Then she thought of the way she had floated slowly through the air to end her fall uninjured, in the room where she now was, almost as if a supernatural force had guided her to a safe landing at Feldbruck.

  Sure, Gina thought cynically. It was the angel in charge of computer explosions. Get hold of yourself, girl. You don’t believe in all that mushy New Age stuff. There was nothing supernatural about it. You made a mistake on the computer, and you have to figure out a way to correct it so you can go back. Nice as Feldbruck is, you don’t belong here.

  Was it possible that the way for her to return to her own time lay through Dominick’s room? It was the place where she had entered the eighth century; might it a
lso be the place from which she could leave? Through the ceiling? But how? She stared up at the ceiling, looking for a sign, a piece of evidence. Then, for a moment or two, she wondered if there was something about Dominick that had brought her to this particular time and place.

  “Gina?” From the doorway Ella regarded her with a puzzled expression. “Are you coming? We still have to put the sheets away in the linen room.”

  “Yes, I’m finished.” Gina set down the last book and rose from her knees. She paused long enough to glance around at Dominick’s belongings once again, and shook her head. “I have to stop thinking about him. No man is worth twisting myself into knots, especially not a man from another century. If I have any brain left at all after what has happened, I will concentrate on getting out of here.”

  “What did you say?” Ella asked.

  “Just that I have to stop daydreaming and begin thinking seriously about what I intend to do next,” Gina answered.

  “That’s always a good idea,” Ella said with a laugh.

  * * *

  The evening meal was bread and cheese, washed down with ale or wine. Gina didn’t care for the ale, but she did like the wine. It tasted like slightly fizzy grape juice, and it didn’t have much kick to it. She knew better than to ask for a cup of hot tea, which was what she really wanted to drink. She seriously doubted if the people gathered in the great hall knew that China or India existed, so it was a pretty sure guess that they wouldn’t know about tea.

  Having imbibed three cups of wine for whatever courage they would impart, Gina left the table soon after Dominick did and followed him out of the hall to the garden.

  The sun was low in the sky, casting a golden light on the rustling tree leaves and sending long violet shadows across the beds of herbs and flowers. The brisk wind that earlier had made laying out the laundry difficult was now a gentle breeze. The evening air was cool, yet with a hint of summer warmth to come.

  Gina saw Dominick bend to smell the lilies. When he straightened, though he hadn’t looked in her direction, she knew he was aware of her presence, just as she had known that morning that he was in the garden.

  “It’s my favorite time of day,” Dominick said. “Work is finished until tomorrow, Feldbruck is at peace, and soon the stars will begin to shine.”

  “Were you born here?” she asked, coming to stand beside him. “Have you lived here always? It seems to me you love this place.”

  “I do love it, perhaps because I won these fields and woodlands by my own sword at a time when there was nothing left except my sword that I dared to call mine. The first time I rode through the gate, I felt as if I was coming home. What Feldbruck is today I have built by my own effort and with the help of the people who were living here when Charles granted the land to me at the end of the Bavarian campaign.”

  “You sound like a pioneer who ventured into a new land to build a new life,” she said. “From what I have seen of your people, they like and respect you, which means you are a good landlord.” Then, before she lost her nerve, she launched into her scheme to learn as much as she could from him, in hope of discovering how to return to New York City. “Earlier today you said you’d listen and keep my secrets if I wanted to talk.”

  “So I will.” He faced her, the lowering sun behind him turning his blond hair into a fiery halo. She couldn’t see his expression, but his voice was gentle. “You may speak freely to me. Shall we sit where we did this morning?”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d rather walk. I’m a bit nervous. I don’t usually talk about my past. It’s not a nice story. In fact, it’s pretty awful.” He did not respond to what she said. She began to walk down the gravel path, and Dominick fell into step by her side. Because of what she already knew about him from Hedwiga and Ella, the first part of her story wasn’t terribly difficult to tell. She didn’t think he would be shocked by it. “My parents weren’t married. I never knew either of them. I was told that my mother was very young and my father deserted her as soon as he learned I was on the way, so she gave me up for adoption.”

  Gina paused, frowning a little. The words she was speaking were slightly different in Frankish, so the tale didn’t seem quite as stark and unpleasant as it did in English. Dominick’s reaction helped to explain the difference.

  “That is a situation common to Francia, as well as to your homeland,” he said. “Here in Francia, children whose parents cannot raise them are usually given as oblates to convents or monasteries, to be trained into the religious life as they grow up. Occasionally, childless couples will adopt children, usually the offspring of deceased relatives. There are some unwanted children, fortunately not many, who are simply abandoned, left to fend for themselves.”

  “Well, I was adopted by a couple who had no children of their own,” Gina said. “For the first three years of my life I guess I was among the wanted children. I’m sorry to say I have no memory of that time. When I was not quite four, both of my adoptive parents were killed in a car accident.”

  “They were riding in a cart?” Dominick asked, looking puzzled. “Why weren’t they on horseback? Were they farmers?”

  “No, they – they lived in the city. It’s difficult to explain. Let’s just say the cart overturned. I was only slightly injured, but I was left an orphan, with no other family, so I was put into a foster home.”

  “Fostering is not unknown in Francia,” Dominick said, nodding his understanding. “Often nobles send their sons to live in each others’ households for a time. The custom helps to build friendships, so the nobles don’t fight among themselves as frequently as they once did. Then there is the palace school, where intelligent boys can be sent to learn their letters and counting. That’s a kind of fostering, too, with Charles as the foster father. Nor is it unknown for him to take in the orphaned offspring of his nobles and raise them with his own children.”

  “That isn’t the kind of foster home I’m talking about,” Gina said. “The government paid people to take me in. Actually, I was moved around quite often. Some of the foster families I was sent to were kind enough. It really wasn’t their fault if I had the feeling I ought to be somewhere else. Then there were the other foster parents, the ones who never should have been given a child to care for.”

  Perhaps it was the edge of bitterness in her voice that made Dominick pause on his way along the path and look hard at her. “Were you beaten?”

  “Oh, yes. Often.” She couldn’t repress the anger or the emotional fatigue that drained her whenever she recalled those unhappy days. The reaction came from years of going over and over that period of her life, wondering what she had done wrong. She had never found a satisfactory answer. “Beatings and worse. Some of the other children were as nasty as the grownups. Especially the bigger boys.” She paused, gritting her teeth at the memory.

  “Anyone who mistreats a person who is smaller or weaker is a coward,” Dominick declared. “Was there no one to whom you could complain?”

  “I was too afraid. While I was still little, I hoped someone would notice the bruises and help me. But no one ever did, and after a while I lost hope. As soon as I was old enough, I began living on my own. I worked at a part-time job while I was in high school. I’ve been supporting myself since I was sixteen.”

  She was a little surprised at herself for revealing so much emotion. She had learned early in life that men weren’t interested in how she felt. Dominick’s understanding response startled her.

  “It is a terrible thing to be unable to trust,” he said softly. “To know that you are alone and unloved.”

  Though he didn’t comment about the details of her story that did not fit into his Frankish world, Gina reminded herself to speak more carefully in the future. She slammed the door shut on the emotions that were threatening to break out into tears, so she could launch into her fact-finding mission.

  “You know about being left alone, don’t you?” she asked very deliberately.

  “It is no secret that I have been declared illeg
itimate.” Dominick’s voice turned cooler. “I assume that is what you have been trying to learn from me by recounting your own story. I wonder why you did not simply ask. I also wonder what else you are determined to discover. However, you have eliminated one possibility I was considering.”

  “What possibility? What are you talking about?”

  “I was wondering if someone you love was being threatened.”

  “I don’t know what you mean. I don’t love anyone, so there’s no one whose safety I’d worry about. Why did you think so?”

  “Gina, I want to know who sent you to Feldbruck, and why. Was it Fastrada? If it was, you must tell me. I am trying to help you.”

  “I never heard of anyone named Fastrada until you mentioned her earlier today. Dominick, everything I’ve just said to you is the truth.”

  “It may be. I hope it is. But I don’t believe you have told me your entire truth.”

  “My life has taught me to be cautious,” she said.

  “I understand. If Fastrada has sent you, she chose her agent well.” His hand touched her cheek, his fingertips stroking gently across her skin until he held the nape of her neck.

  Gina reminded herself with unusual forcefulness that she did not like men, and for good reason. But she had to admit to herself that she did rather like Dominick. She enjoyed a quick mental vision of him with sword in hand, defending her against some of the cruel bullies of her childhood. She wondered what his reaction would be if she told him everything about herself.

  While she was considering doing just that, Dominick leaned forward and placed his mouth on hers. Gina was so startled that she gasped and opened her lips. Dominick held the back of her head a little more firmly and kissed her a bit harder.

  There was no force involved. There was only Dominick’s warm mouth on hers, his tongue teasing along the edge of her lips, and his fingers splaying into her short hair. He wasn’t holding her tightly. She could have wrenched her head away, could have protested what he was doing. That she stayed where she was and allowed him to continue kissing her was an amazement to her own mind.