The Loved and the Lost (33 page)

“They saw you too?” Lincoln slapped the side of his head again. “Man oh man.”

“So, we came to just observe and instead, made everything change,” Kingsley recapped.

“Parmatheon caused it,” Hansum said defensively.

“It doesn't matter who started the changes,” Sideways said. “The question still remains, if we see a nexus point, should we transport the della Cappas back to our time, or should we wait?”

“All I want to do is keep Guil safe,” Hansum confessed, his eyes still locked on her. “I've gotten her killed three times so far. I don't want to put her through more pain. Did you try taking them out of phase?”

“Ya, but no luck,” Lincoln said.

Just then the curtain door to the room was pulled back and Master della Cappa came in. His eyes welled up at seeing his daughter sitting up.

“You're awake,” he said as if seeing a miracle. He walked through the out-of-phase onlookers and knelt beside her.

“It's getting crowded in here,” Kingsley said, stepping back a few more inches.

Agistino gently sat down on the edge of the bed and cupped Guilietta's pale face in his hands. “How do you feel, my daughter?”

“Weak, Papa, but happy now that Master Calabreezi says I will recover.”

“That bastardo, della Scalla,” Agistino cursed. “He sat in my house and drank my wine, made his pledges — and he does this?”

“Master, you must control your anger,” the younger Shamira advised. “Remember, Master Calabreezi says we must act like nothing has happened. If the Podesta feels slighted, he could cause us, and even Master Calabreezi's family, great harm. Let us just be happy that everyone is going to get better.”

Agistino didn't respond, but trying to contain his rage caused his scowl to deepen. This, along with his wet eyes, made the big man look very fragile.

“How is Mama?” Guilietta asked, putting her hand on his arm.

The question about his wife's heroics caused Agistino's brittle emotions to crack even further. He could do nothing but choke out his reply.

“Your saintly mother is sleeping now. And who knows? Maybe we owe a debt to her Archangel Michael. Let, let us pray to him.”

Guilietta and Agistino clasped one another's hands and bowed their foreheads together. As they muttered their thanks, the younger Shamira continued to slowly comb her sister's hair.

The sound of the front door to the house opening was heard and a familiar voice spoke.

“Romero!” Guilietta said, excitedly. She propped herself up straight and folded her hands demurely. The Master stood and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

“Where is everybody?” the voice of the younger Hansum was heard asking in the lower room.

“They're upstairs, Romero,” Bembo's voice answered.

“Did you bring presents this time?” came Ugilino's voice.

“Shut up, meathead,” the younger Lincoln said, and there were quick footsteps up the stairs.

As before, Hansum rushed into the room, fell to his knees and began crying as his head dropped onto Guilietta's lap. The older Hansum noticed one distinct difference from before. His younger self had on a belt with a sword hanging from it. The younger Lincoln, still wearing his chainmail balaclava, stood next to the younger Shamira, his eyes full of worry.

“My darling, I'm fine. I'm fine, my love,” Guilietta cooed, soothing the top of her husband's head.

“Your note,” the younger Hansum said, looking up at Shamira. “It didn't say what the matter was. The Podesta let me come back right away, thank Cristo, but what's wrong?”

“The Podesta,” the Master growled. “Bastardo!”

“What?” Hansum asked incredulously.

“We thought Guilietta was sick,” the young Shamira explained, “But when Master Calabreezi came and saw what was going on, he figured out that Guil had been poisoned, with hemlock.”

“Poisoned!” Hansum gasped. “Who . . . who would do that?”

“The bastardo! The Podesta, may he rot in Hades,” Agistino said crossing himself.

“I don't understand,” the 14th-century Hansum said.

“He sent a poisoner, acting as a herbalist,” Shamira continued. “She befriended Nuca and then Guilietta. She tricked us.”

“But why would he . . .” the younger Hansum stopped. He knew. “But you're going to be all right? You found out in time?”

“She will be all right, but no, it was not us that found her out,” Agistino said, putting his hand on Guilietta head. “My daughter was saved by two angels . . .” and then he explained how his wife, with the help of her vision of the Archangel Michael, had prevented Guilietta's death.

With the extra people in the room, both in and out of phase, Kingsley's body was now mostly in the hallway, with only the front of his face peeking through the wall. He bent down to whisper into his Shamira's ear.

“It's crowded here,” he whispered. “I'm going downstairs and maybe walk outside.” She nodded, continuing to watch the highly-charged scene in front of her, very emotional herself. “I love you,” Kingsley added, kissing her softly on the cheek. She looked up at him with limpid eyes and smiled, squeezing his hand as a tear rolled down her cheek. He wiped it away and Shamira looked back at the reunion. Kingsley backed up into the dark hallway, standing alone now.

‘This is really heavy stuff,' he thought. ‘Real life like we couldn't imagine in the 26
^th
-century. And it's so different seeing it firsthand, instead of watching from afar. I wonder how it will affect my art?'

“Hey, let me out!” said a croaking voice from downstairs.

“You can't go out,” another man's voice said sternly.

“But I gotta piss!” the first voice croaked again.

Kingsley quickly padded down the steps to see what was going on. There was the grotesque boy, Ugilino, at the door, facing two uniformed soldiers. The one who looked like an officer had his visor up and carried a short sword. The shorter soldier wore a kettle helmet and had several days of heavy beard growth. Both looked grimy from being on the road.

“You can't go out,” the officer repeated.

“But I gotta piss and then I wanna go to my bed in the barn,” Ugilino argued.

“Excuse me, Signor,” Bembo, Master della Cappa's journeyman interjected. He was a well-spoken fellow with an easy and likeable manner, and very reliable in an emergency. “May I ask who you are and what is going on? Why can't we go out?”

“I'm Lieutenant Raguso. We're here to protect Master Monticelli, under orders from the Podesta,” the officer said.

“Why does Romero need protection?” Bembo asked.

“He's the Podesta's savant,” Lieutenant Raguso said.

“The Podesta's pet,” the soldier next to him interrupted, and then he gave a great gaping yawn, exposing a mouth full of rotting teeth.

The officer cuffed him with the back of his heavy leather glove.

“Shut up! Imbecile! Excuse me, Signor. Master Monticelli is an important man and must be protected. There are spies and enemies about.”

“
Master
Monticelli is it now?” Bembo said.

“Romero? Important?” Ugilino said, squinting.

“The Podesta's pet invented a grand new weapon,” the tired soldier interrupted again. “Ta blow our bloody enemies ta bits. I seen it with me own eyes,” and then he yawned again. “Loud too.”

“Chinza! I said shut your mouth.”

“But it's true, brother. As true as the fact that it was me who saw someone movin' in the trees, spyin' on us. And I helped catch that funny lookin' guy. And when we was chasin' all through the woods for his bloody friends, didn't you and I both see their horse markings and lots of droppings? Oh, there must have been fifty of them, brother.”

“Twenty's more like it,” the officer corrected. “But I said shut up!”

“All the same, it's true.”

“As true as being ordered not to speak of this to anyone?”

“Oh, yeah,” and the soldier yawned again, unperturbed.

“But I gotta piss,” Ugilino protested.

“Well, do it in a pot in the house,” Raguso told him.

“I gotta do more than that, and the Master don't allow the men to do it inside. Only the women.”

“I gotta do it too,” the soldier named Chinza said, yawning again. And then he winced, like his guts hurt.

“All right, all right” the lieutenant said. “You. Gargoyle face. Show us where to go and then get back in the house.”

Ugilino exited into the night, shutting the door behind him, leaving Bembo and the unseen Kingsley inside. Kingsley had found this rustic interaction fascinating and wanted to see more, so he walked through the closed door, onto the stoop. Besides Ugi and the two soldiers, four more were standing on the road with the horses. The men all looked tired and mean.

“So, ugly one,” Lieutenant Raguso began, “where does your master let you do it?”

“Behind the shop,” Ugilino said, pointing down the lane.

“That's the shop?” the officer asked. “It looks like an old barn.”

“Upstairs it still is,” Ugilino croaked. “Downstairs is the shop, with the best lens making equipment in all of Europe, my master says. We make the lookers for the Podesta.”

“They's made here?” the tired soldier asked Ugilino, sounding impressed. “The lieutenant, my brother here, let me try his. It's like witchcraft. And you help make ‘em?”

“Uh . . . si,” Ugilino lied.

“C'mon, let's go!” the lieutenant ordered. “You two, stay by the house. Our orders are to guard both the shop and house. You lot, bring the horses,” and they began down the alley.

Kingsley clicked on his communications implant.

“Hansum, something's happening out here,” he said. The image of the older Hansum in the small bedroom came into Kingsley's mind.

“What going on?”

“There are six soldiers down here. Armed to the teeth. Apparently they're guarding your younger self because you, he, may have been followed. Feltrino, I guess.”

“Feltrino and his men are on their way back to Mantua.”

“I understand,” Kingsley replied. “But I thought you should know there are lots of soldiers around.”

“Absolutely. Thanks. But I'm sure we're fine.”
Hansum's image disappeared.

“That sword looks sharp,” Ugilino said to Chinza as they walked to the shop.

“It is,” the perpetually yawning soldier answered. “I've gutted my share with it.”

“I could be a soldier,” Ugi said. “It would be fun riding around and killing people.”

“Oh, yeah. And sleepin' in the mud or in your saddle for days, your ass bleedin' from the blisters. And wearin' hot, heavy armor, chasin' here and chasin' there, after someone who wants to stick a big sharp pike up your arse.” He gave his biggest yawn yet, adding, “It's a treat.”

“My master yells at me all the time.”

“A skilled lens maker like you gets yelled at?”

Ugilino didn't answer. “Here's the barn. We're not supposed to do it out front, because of the customers. Come ‘round back.”

“You sleep in the shop?” Lieutenant Raguso asked.

“No, I have my own stall, with all the fresh straw I want and a wool blanket. It's ‘round the back too.”

“You go with him, Chinza. But don't be long.”

“A wool blanket? Lucky,” Chinza said as he followed Ugilino. “You got it lucky.”

Kingsley was amazed at the interaction between the two not-so-brights. This truly would be fodder for some future piece of art. It made him think how, back home in his time, he spent hours in the tea houses with his friends, watching historical events and debating. He had always liked watching the big events, concentrating on glorified historical figures. But he was starting to appreciate how anonymous little people also made things change. What would have happened if this odd little fellow hadn't spotted Elder Parmatheon in the woods? Would the battle with Feltrino have gone on as before? And like Medeea said, now that all those soldiers hadn't been killed, would they have children who otherwise wouldn't have been born? Would they become free agents of time, siring even more free agents who'd cause more ripples of change? It was inevitable. And the soldiers who weren't killed would most likely kill people who weren't killed before. Such thoughts could go on and on.

These certainly were heavy and important ideas, ideas that History Camps and time travel were supposed to illuminate. They were ideas to be taken seriously. Kingsley frowned as he indeed did think about this seriously, but then . . . two huge farts echoed in unison from around the back of the barn. It was Ugilino and Chinza, relieving themselves. All the soldiers broke into gales of laughter. Kingsley's deep thoughts disappeared as he laughed along with the della Scalla knights, only a few feet away and out of phase.