Disclaimer: I do not own Timeline in either book or movie form. I merely built on an existing foundation.
A pile of straw is not the most comfortable place to sleep, although, considering the circumstances, it could be much worse. At least the sheets were clean and the fleas were minimal. I rolled over in my bed and the straw-filled mattress crackled in my ear. What I wouldn't give for a proper posture-pedic mattress and box- spring. But, I had made my bed (so to speak) and now I must lie in it. (Literally.)
I wondered for what must have been the millionth time how on Earth people survived this time and evolved into what I had come from. The rabid technology that I grew up with was at complete odds with my current surroundings. I rolled onto my back and stared at the timbers that supported the dry thatch of the roof. The dawn filtered in through the cracks in the closed shutters at the window.
Reluctantly, I rose from my bed to begin my day. I pulled the chemise that I slept in off and took a clean one from the trunk at the foot of my bed. I pulled it on and straightened it so that it fell loosely to its ankle length hem. Over that I donned a tight fitting dark grey kirtle. The lack of proper underwear still disturbed me, but I was getting used to it. Over the kirtle went a sleeveless over gown of a pale grey. I combed out my long hair with my fingers and quickly plaited it into a braid that I secured by tying a piece of leather around it.
Once presentable, I hurried out of the small room that I shared with two of the kitchen maids to begin my day. It hadn't been as difficult as I thought it would be to secure a position as a seamstress in the house of Lord Oliver. But, then again, nobody in this century asks for identification or checks references. All that was required was a demonstration of my proficiency with a needle and thread and I was gainfully employed, had a place to sleep and meals provided.
Of course, I knew that this job couldn't last forever. The day was fast approaching when I'd have to make an escape from the village of Castle Guard. For I knew that the English would burn it all to the ground before moving to the fortress, La Rocque, there to be defeated by the French.
How did I know? Because where I was from, it had already happened. Or perhaps that should be "when" I was from. 650 years from now, I'll have read all about the battle and the events leading up to it in history books. I'll read every report submitted by the archeologists on the dig in the Dordogne funded by ITC.
The dig however was nothing but a side project for Robert Doniger, who owned ITC. He had little, if any, interest in archeology or history. What he wanted to know was why his new invention, which was supposed to transmit physical matter from place to place, was instead sending it back in time to Castle Guard, France in the year 1357.
For me, though was a dream come true, despite the hardships. I loved history of any kind and was especially fascinated by the Middle Ages. I had majored in Medieval Studies in College. I'd learned Latin and Middle French and English (a skill that served me well, now although what I learned wasn't nearly as accurate as my professors had claimed).
History wasn't merely my chosen profession it was also my hobby. I was in my freshman year at college when I discovered the Society for Creative Anachronism. This group of people that went beyond merely researching the Middle Ages intrigued me. They dressed in the clothes, cooked the food, behaved with chivalry, took part in combat and practiced many other aspects of that time that we modern day people so love to romanticize. I enjoyed being with people that shared my interests and gave me an outlet to indulge my passion.
Unfortunately, none of my past had truly prepared me for the reality of my present. Many things about the Middle Ages are vastly different from what scholars deduced in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. The most profound of these differences to me was the truth about chivalry. Now, don't get me wrong, it did actually exist. But mostly as the game of "Courtly Love" in the court of Henry II of England and Eleanor of Aquitaine. Unfortunately, they've both been dead for more than a century and a half. And it didn't extend to "the little people". In other words, if you weren't of noble birth, you weren't worthy of chivalry. Women are possessions and if a woman doesn't have an owner (a father, husband, brother or other male family member) to protect her, then she is considered fair game for all. But a male protector is no guarantee of chivalrous treatment. If a randy knight on the make believes that he can defeat your protector, he may try to harm or abduct you anyway.
I've taken to keeping a dagger in my right stocking. (Just to be safe.) For the frightening truth was that I hadn't seen my partner in more than two weeks. I had no idea what had happened to Vince. We had been sent for a six-hour observation mission. (Obviously, we are way overdue returning to our century of origin.) The fact of the matter was, that I was now stuck here. Our markers expired after six hours and no longer would take us home. Vince and I had become separated and were to meet at the stable. He never made it to our rendezvous and my marker expired while I waited for him. I had to believe that he was here somewhere, but if so, why hadn't he found me yet?
So, here I was, day eighteen of living in the past. My fingers hurt from the constant hand sewing.
I hated hand sewing. I despised it with every fiber of my being. Now, I was trapped in the ladies solar, doing it all of the time and learning nothing except how to make my fingers bleed. I really wished that if I had to be stuck here, that I could at least have been a bit more productive.
Perhaps I could play hooky? Had the concept been invented yet?
But no, Lord Oliver needed a new tabard, the Lady needed yet another gown, and there were the myriad of tablecloths, sheets, tapestries and alter cloths needing to be finished.