§ § § -- October 27, 2001
One of those accessories, Leslie discovered, was a Viking ship; the only example of which she was aware was a highly detailed model that Christian had built as a young teenager. He had justifiable pride in the thing, and she thought it would make a perfect prop for the time-travel room. So, on a somewhat rushed drive around the eastern end of the island collecting assorted odds and ends, she dropped in at Christian's office and was glad to find him in, writing program code on his computer. He looked up when she came in and brightened. "Well, hello, my Rose! What brings you here?"
She kissed him and perched in the chair beside his desk. "I have an enormous favor to ask you, my love. We have a big fantasy this weekend, one that's going to stretch through next weekend, and I need to borrow something, if it's okay with you."
"Oh? What?" Christian asked curiously.
"The ship model you built when you were fourteen," Leslie said hopefully. "I know it's a big thing to ask, and I normally wouldn't…but it would be perfect for the purpose, and the work you did on it was so meticulous, it seems a shame not to show it off."
Christian grinned, a wry, knowing grin. "When in need, use flattery," he joked, and she grinned back a little sheepishly. "What sort of fantasy is this that requires its use, then?"
"I'd tell you now, but I'm sort of in a hurry. I have to be back at the main house in forty-five minutes, and I still have three more things to get. If you agree, I'll have just enough time to run home and pick it up."
He settled back in his chair and considered it for a moment. "Well, all right. I'll just have to contain my curiosity. I won't be able to join you and Mr. Roarke for either lunch or dinner, since I have an appointment at the pineapple plantation that will take all day. Perhaps tomorrow you can tell me. Just be careful, please."
"I promise, my love," she said, kissing him again. "It'll come back to you in the exact same condition it went out. Thank you, Christian, we both really appreciate this."
He smiled. "Be careful with yourself, too, my Rose. I'll get in touch with you later when I can…possibly from home tonight, all right?"
"Sounds good," she agreed, rising. "Frankly, you're going to enjoy this story when I have a chance to tell you. See you later, my darling, and thanks again." Christian stood up too, caught her long enough for a last kiss, and watched her rush out.
His employees had been watching. "What was that all about?" Julianne asked.
"Oh, she needed something for a fantasy," Christian said, sitting again. "It sounds like something very interesting. I almost wish we weren't going to be so busy today…it'll drive me crazy wondering. So what time do you have to get to the ferry, then? I can drop you off when I go to the plantation…"
"You're very fortunate," Roarke remarked dryly to his daughter when she came in with a couple of bags and a cardboard box that had been carefully padded with towels. "You'll have just enough time to decorate accordingly. What do you have in the box?"
"Something fragile," said Leslie. "If you'll help me, Father, we can get it done quicker."
Roarke raised an eyebrow but smilingly acceded; he began to remove items from one of the bags while she set the box on a table in a corner and gingerly lifted out the contents. He was still examining the Russian balalaika when he became aware of Leslie fussing in the corner, and turned to see her hovering over something on the table. "What are you doing?" he asked, going over to satisfy his curiosity. His eyes widened at sight of the Viking-ship model. "That's exquisite, Leslie! Where did you find it?"
"At home," she said and grinned at him. "It's Christian's—he built it himself when he was fourteen, and he was generous enough to lend it to us for this fantasy."
"Amazing," said Roarke, examining the model with admiration. "The detail is minute; he must have spent months working on this. An excellent touch, child. Hurry, we have very little time now…our guests are impatient."
By the time the Karadimases appeared to start their fantasy, the decorating was long finished and Roarke had dispatched Leslie on another errand. Steve and Marissa were now dressed in jeans and T-shirts, and looked more than eager to begin. "Right on time," Roarke said and gestured at the time-travel room. "If you will…"
The couple stepped into the room and stopped short, staring around it in wonder. There were small tables scattered around: one held a balalaika, another a grass skirt and a strange wooden idol, a third a totem pole and a small drum. Hanging on one wall was a painting of ancient Tenochtitlán; mounted opposite this was a boomerang, just over a table that held a didgeridoo; and in the corner was yet another table that bore a model of a Viking ship around two feet in length. The corner opposite this boasted a dress form on which was draped an ornate gown with fussy trimmings and a huge neck wisk. One last table sported a bust of a stern-looking Julius Caesar, and suspended from the ceiling was a small padded basket full of loose rainbow gems. Marissa gasped softly. "This is incredible, Mr. Roarke!"
"Where did all these things come from?" Steve asked rhetorically, moving deeper into the room and examining the boomerang and didgeridoo. "And they all have numbers." Next to, or attached to, each item was a small placard bearing a number from 1 to 9.
"These are the symbols of the countries you will be visiting during the course of your fantasy," Roarke explained. "The numbers denote the order in which you will travel to those places. You will see that the gown in the corner bears the number one: that is where you will begin, in the England of Queen Elizabeth's day. You will spend a full day in each locale; when that day is up, you will automatically find yourself in this room, and you will then move to the next object in your trip. So when you return from England, you will go to the painting there on the wall, which bears the number two." Steve and Marissa nodded comprehension. "Are there any questions?"
"Yes. If we decide one of these places is to our liking, how do we remain?" Steve asked bluntly.
Roarke regarded him. "I don't believe that would be wise, Professor Karadimas. However—if you are still adamant about wishing to remain in the past after you have visited all nine countries, you may raise the question at that time, and I will answer it." Steve looked as if he might have protested, but there was something in either Roarke's look or his tone of voice that kept him silent. "Are you prepared?"
Marissa pointed out a small pouch she wore around her waist. "Essentials. Even we know we still have to brush our teeth, so I've brought brushes and toothpaste. I think otherwise we should be fine."
Roarke smiled at that. "Very well. If you will both go to stand beside the dress form there, I will leave the room. Once the door is closed, please close your eyes and count slowly to five…and your fantasy will have begun."
"Then what are we waiting for?" Steve said excitedly. "Come on, Marissa, let's not waste any more time." He grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the dress form in the corner; Roarke smiled once more.
"I wish you a good journey," he said quietly and departed. The moment the door closed, Steve and Marissa looked at each other with huge grins, then joined hands, squeezed their eyes shut and counted aloud to five…
"Pray tell, my good sir and madam, have you something in your eye?" asked a voice, and Steve and Marissa both opened their eyes and looked around them. They were standing in a massive stone hall draped with large, heavy tasseled tapestries; there was quite a crowd therein, all dressed quite oddly in either voluminous gowns in the women's cases or doublets and knee-length breeches in the men's. Most of the women wore high, stiff neck wisks. Marissa and Steve looked at each other; they were dressed the same, and so was the person who had spoken to them—a thin, somewhat pockmarked man with a wispy mustache and a leering manner about him. "You seem befuddled, I dare say."
"Somewhat," Steve said, regaining his composure first. "Might we inquire as to whether Her Majesty is in residence at the moment?"
"But of course. Allow me to introduce myself: I am Sir Robert Dudley. You must be the merchants from Canterbury; she has been awaiting you. Come with me and I shall have you announced." Steve and Marissa looked at each other, shrugged in unison and followed the man, weaving among pairs and groups of fussily-dressed humans for some distance until they abruptly found themselves facing a regal, stern-faced but attractive woman with hair of a surprising, rich red color and piercing dark gray eyes, sitting on a heavily jewel-encrusted throne. Marissa's eyes widened and she immediately dropped into a deep curtsy; Steve, a beat late, bowed till he stood at a right angle from the waist.
"Your Gracious Majesty," Marissa said reverently. "It is our great honor that you have received us today."
"Indeed it is, Your Majesty," Steve said, taking his cues from her. England had been one of her choices, and he was obviously a little bewildered by it all, not to mention highly self-conscious in the period clothing.
Queen Elizabeth I scrutinized Marissa with approval, Steve with a bit of reserve. "I am told you bear news from Canterbury," she said expectantly.
"We do, Your Majesty," Marissa said. "Our ships have but recently returned from the Spice Islands with many wonderful delicacies. As ever, my lord and I have set aside the most pleasing and tasteful of these spices and gems for Your Majesty to choose at her leisure."
"We have?" Marissa heard Steve mumble in perplexity. She gave him a discreet poke in the back, and he cleared his throat. "We have, Your Majesty," he said obediently.
Elizabeth gave a slow nod. "I am pleased," she said. "You will have these brought to me within the day; there is much pressing business to attend to, and I fear my choices must needs wait for a quiet moment. If I find these items pleasing to the eye and the palate, I shall renew your official charter and inform Sir Robert Cecil accordingly." A movement caught her eye and she noticed Dudley lasciviously eyeing a girl nearby who looked a bit young yet to be suffering his attentions. "Dudley, my dear, since you appear to have no further duties at this moment, you will escort these good people back to the entry, so that they do not lose themselves in this rabbit warren my father so loved." She smiled wryly.
"We are ever grateful, Your Majesty," Marissa said with another curtsy. Hastily Steve bowed, and Elizabeth nodded. Dudley stepped forward and ushered them along.
"You were fortunate," he said. "Queen Bess was in a good mood today. You, my dear fellow, were rather late in making your obeisance to her."
Steve gave him a look that simply made him smile frostily. "I pay my respects as does any good citizen of England," Steve said a little heatedly.
"Next time, pay them with greater haste," Dudley retorted. "I bid you good day." He left them in the same spot where they'd arrived, and disappeared into the crowd.
Marissa looked worriedly at Steve as they started out into a narrow, crowded street. "Honey, we'd better be careful of him," she said in a low voice. "He's tricky."
"Yeah, well…" Steve broke off when he took his first breath of the outdoor air and almost choked. "My God! The stench in this place! I know they didn't have street sweepers, but you'd think they could at least make the effort." The gutters were clogged with all sorts of rotting garbage, from the mundane to the unspeakably foul, which gave off a persistent and horrific odor that made Marissa gag.
"Maybe we could…aaaaccck!!…come up with a system," she managed to say, between swallows that were meant to keep her breakfast in her stomach.
"In a day?" Steve grunted. "We're historians, honey, not civil engineers. Let's just get out of here and try to find a reasonable inn to stay in."
By late that afternoon even Marissa was disillusioned. Everything was crowded, primitive and cramped, not to mention astonishingly filthy; the rich were worse misers than any they had ever encountered, and the poor were worse than destitute. Rats and mice ran rampant; insects were everywhere; and dogs, cats and even children ran loose in the streets, the latter often begging passersby for food or money. The noise and smell were overwhelming. "It's a miracle," Steve said as they ambled slowly toward the London Bridge, "that this city made it intact to the twenty-first century. I'd be inclined to move the Great Fire up about a century, just to clean this place up and make a fresh start."
Marissa giggled softly and tugged him a little closer; she had her arm linked with his. "I can't blame you. Oh, Steve, look! Isn't that amazing?" They had just reached a point near the Thames from which they could see the fabled London Bridge; lining it, as on any ordinary street, were stacked Tudor houses, looking as if they might teeter too far in the wrong direction at any moment and topple into the river. "That had to be a bulwark of the rich. It must have been quite the privilege to live on that bridge, and I'm sure only the very wealthiest could have afforded it."
"If there's an inn there, I vote we move into it," Steve said. "Or I would, if I didn't think we'd roll over in bed, right out a window and into the water."
Marissa shrugged. "Better that than being crawled on by rats and bugs. It's a lovely city—at least from a distance—and a fascinating time, but you know, I really don't think we want to stay here."
"In other words, it's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there," Steve said with a grin. "Yeah, I have to agree with you there, honey. I don't know when the day's going to be up, but I hope it's not much longer. We have eight more places to check out, and one of them's bound to be ideal for us."