Chapter I would like your reaction to

The following is a chapter from the book I am working on. Please let me know how you feel about Garth after reading it. Also, I tried to have some sexual tension, but wanted nothing graphic, did I succeed?

I noticed that some of the character's thoughts, that are in Italics in my original did not stay that way when copied to the blog. Also paragraphs are not indented properly. I will have to explore these problems, but will leave the post up and hope you will work your way through.



Diana

Ten days after his arrival in the 11th century Garth again found himself on the road outside St. Albun's. This time the day was drawing itself to a close. Not wanting to meet any of the monks in his new guise, Garth deliberately timed his coming with Vespers, so the monks would all be inside the chapel, chanting their devotion to God.
Garth paused in his journey where the road to the abbey forked off the main highway and taking a moment, looked longingly at the ancient monastery. The fields surrounding it were neatly cultivated. Smoke rose invitingly from the Monastery's kitchen. As he watched a flight of pigeons circled the bell tower once, twice, three times before disappearing into its depths.
Antonio and the other monks inside Saint Albun's led simple but rewarding lives. The eleventh century was basically a cruel age, but monasteries like it were islands of peace and learning in what was otherwise a barbarous time. Garth often thought that when it came time to retire from the fast paced and dangerous life he led, he might request the Temporal Police drop him off at a place like this. An unpretentious life of tilling the soil and meditation, interspersed with periods of beautiful Gregorian chant had a definite appeal to it.
The horse he now rode whinnied, bringing Garth back from his wool gathering. He straightened in the saddle. He had a job to do, and unless he did it right he'd never retire here or anywhere, in fact he'd never even be born. Probably within a hundred miles of where he sat atop this horse was a man or woman who wanted to change all history, change it so thoroughly that nobody alive in Garth's home century would ever even be born. It would be a crime that paled the holocaust of the twentieth century into insignificance.
Resolve firming, Garth tipped his hat to the monastery and started up the trail to the hilltop were he had entered the eleventh century. It had rained earlier. He found the dusty path of ten days ago, now a ribbon of damp black earth, marked here and there by the tiny tracks of birds and other small creatures that had crossed it since the downpour. At the crest he turned to again survey St. Albun's below. Dusk was falling quickly and shadows deepening in the valley. Overhead the storm had moved on and the first stars were visible in the eastern sky.
This Garth bore little resemblance to the naked and confused time traveler of little over a week ago. He now rode a horse and behind him came another as well as a pack mule. The rough peasant's garb, given him by the priests, was tucked away in a saddle bag. Instead he was dressed as a successful member of the Italian bourgeois in a long-sleeved gray tunic decorated with bead work and embroidery. The tunic was gathered by a girdle at his waist where the short sword he'd acquired dangled in its sheaf. A short burgundy cape was fastened by clasp at his right shoulder. Below the tunic black wool hose covered his legs and soft pointed leather shoes clad his feet.
Garth unsaddled and unloaded the animals. He then hobbled them before loosing the beasts to graze on the rich grass of the hilltop. While they ate he searched in the failing light till he found the area of matted grass and weeds where he'd arrived from the future. He gathered dried leaves from under a nearby tress and piled them deeply over the depression his own body had made ten days earlier.
Satisfied with his preparations, Garth cleared an area about twenty feet away and built a fire. Supper was a chicken he'd purchased that afternoon. He cooked it on a spit and ate it with some wheat cakes he baked on a stone. It was completely dark by the time he'd eaten and cleaned up from his meal. Garth checked the northern sky for the big dipper. From its position he could tell he had two more hours till moonrise and then three more before his visitor arrived.
Garth banked the fire then got out a blanket and wrapped himself in it. Setting his mental alarm clock for four and a half hours, he went to sleep.
* * *
A quarter moon climbed the sky toward the zenith when Garth roused himself. His breath frosted in the chill night air and hugging the blanket close he stared at the stars as he awaited his visitor. As he watched a large bird, probably an owl, flew across the face of the moon on silent wings.
Garth shivered. It was a cool night, the ground dewy, just like when he'd come from the 21st century. Stirring the ashes of the fire he found a few glowing coals and soon a warm fire again chased way the night's chill.
Garth arranged a copper pot over the flames and heated some water for coffee. Well, he thought, Barley coffee, anyway. It's the best I can do in this backward eon. He knew that just then anything hot would be good.
Garth was enjoying his second cup, sweetened with honey, when he heard a feminine voice moan and then the sound of a body falling. Garth took the blanket and went over where he'd piled the leaves deep. Bull's-eye, he thought, when he found Diana lying unconscious and naked on his target.
He wrapped the blanket around her and laid her beside the fire where she wouldn't get cold. She'd be comatose for fifteen to twenty minutes and disoriented for about that long after she awoke. At least she'd have him to help her through the ordeal.
Returning to his coffee, Garth waited. As Diana started to regain consciousness she thrashed about some, throwing off the blanket. Garth averted his eyes. It hadn't been so long ago that he'd found those perfect breasts the source of a great deal of pleasure, those soft flanks... Memories tried to return, but he pushed them aside. Their relationship was over now. But the single month since he'd ended it was not long enough to erase certain longings. The sight of her naked brought them all flooding back, and with them his doubts that he had done the right thing in breaking things off with Diana.
Garth took a deep breath to calm himself then reached over and covered her again. But it wasn't long till her troubled sleep had once more resulted in the blanket being tossed aside. Garth again tried not to look, but he lost the battle. He watched the fingers of firelight dance on her feminine form and wished they were his. Desires stirred him in ways he didn't want to be.
Cursing himself, Garth got up and stormed away from the fire to stare out over the valley below. The moon was high in the sky and now that he knew where to look the abbey showed in its wan light. But it was the beauty behind him not that in front that filled his mind's eye.
Diana was one to the prettiest women Garth had ever met. Tall, slim, with a model's shape, her green eyes were perfectly set off by dark red hair. Pouty lips and high cheek bones added to her allure. As if great looks weren't enough, she also possesed that animal magnetism found in some women that draws men like moths to the flame.
Diana had surprised Garth some months ago when she accepted his invitation to go out together. That surprise turned to shock when she then welcomed his advances and their dating turned into an affair. But when Garth wanted to go further and make commitments she would not go along.
Sex with a goddess has a certain attraction and Garth got by on that for awhile but eventually it became hollow. Knowing he was falling in love while she wasn't, he forced himself to break things off with her. It had been one of the hardest things he had ever done, and seeing her by the fire tonight brought all his doubts and his feelings for her flooding back.
Diana hadn't been happy to have the affair end, or more to the point, Garth felt she wasn't happy to have it ended by him. Talking to others who'd had affairs with her, Garth found out she was used to being the one to decide when it was time to move on. Garth was sure there had been an element of pay back when she'd over done it some while bruising him in preparation for his visit to the Monks of Saint Albun's. He was supposed to look beat up, but not that beat up.
Garth knew he needed something to do or he'd soon find himself back there by the fire holding her in his arms and comforting her as she came back to consciousness. He sought out the stack of luggage from the pack animal and tried to rearrange it. When that proved too hard to do in the dark he went to check on the horses and the mule.
After a while he heard her talking to herself as she struggled toward wakefulness. Like it or not, he now had to return to the fire for she would need his help. He breathed a sigh of relief when he got there. Diana sat staring into the flames, the blanket wrapped around her.
"How you doing?" he asked.
She pulled the blanket tighter around herself, "Who are you?" Not waiting for an answer she asked, "What is this place?"
The process began. Garth tried to be reassuring, tried to keep her from sinking into the panic and despair that had seized him when he'd awoken alone on this same spot a little over week earlier. With his help she progressed rapidly. Finally something he said triggered the flood of memories. The lost expression vanished from her eyes, replaced by one of recognition. She blinked a few times, looked around at the night and then him, and said, "Garth!"
"Welcome to 1064," he answered. "Can I get you some coffee?"
She shivered, holding the blanket even tighter against the cold. "I'd love some," she said.
He handed her a steaming wooden bowl of his concoction.
When she reached for it the blanket fell away from her shoulder. She took the bowl but only made a half hearted attempt to pull the blanket back around her neck. With a coy look in her eye she said, "You have a little fun with me, while I was out? Cop a feel maybe? Just for old time's sake?"
"No," Garth said, offense sounding in his voice. "I don't..., I'm not that type of..." He paused a moment cursing himself for his weakness and her for knowing him so well, "Okay, I was tempted, I admit it, but I swear I didn't do anything. So let's just change the subject. Okay? That's all over with, and besides we are on assignment now."
"Okay, sorry," she said in a business like tone and then sipped Garth's brew. She grimaced, "Hey, I thought you said 'coffee'?"
"The real thing is hard to come by in eleventh century Italy. I made this stuff myself. You toast barley seeds till they are almost black. Then you just grind them and add 'em to boiling water. Be careful, there will be plenty of dregs in the bottom of that bowl."
"At least it's hot and sweet," she said. Then seeing the horses nearby and noting his fine clothes she added, "I guess your time here has been successful?"
Garth nodded. While a ten day period had transpired in his life, only an hour or so had passed for Diana. Plans had called for her to follow him right into the time machine. Her arrival date in the eleventh century, however, was a ten days after his, allowing him time to obtain the treasure from the abbey and buy the supplies they'd need for their mission. He recounted the week for her while she drank. By the time he finished her head was nodding. Time travel was not just a mental ordeal, but a physical one as well, leaving the body drained of strength. Not long after finishing her drink Diana was fast asleep. Garth thought about waking her and giving her the clothes he'd obtained for her but decided against it, letting her sleep instead. She'd need the rest.
* * *
The sun was on the horizon and Garth just finished fixing breakfast when he heard Diana say in a friendly voice, "That smells good. When do we eat?"
"Now if your ready," he answered. Garth gave her a wooden bowl of his barley coffee and a second full of scrambled eggs. While she sipped the hot drink he split open a couple of the wheat cakes he'd saved from supper the previous night and toasted them. When they were hot he smeared butter over their exposed centers and gave Diana one of them too.
"You always were a better cook than I," she remarked around a mouth full of eggs and wheat cake.
"It's not me," Garth said. "Food always tastes better cooked outdoors, over and open fire, and eaten with your hands. And for some unknown reason a cold frosty morning when you can see your breath also seems to add to its flavor too."
"Regardless, this is good," she said. "Can I have some more eggs?"
"I'd like to get an early start," Garth said as dished her up the last of the eggs from the pan. "Bologna is a good days ride from here and I want be there in time to find the Inn of the Brown Cockatrice and get us a room before dark.”
She nodded. “I read the same files as you. It's supposed to be the best place to stay in the city during this decade. The last report even used the word 'decent' to describe it. Speaking of which, I hope you got me something 'decent' to wear. I see you did all right by yourself," she said as her eyes traveled up and down him. "You look like a fancy young rakehell in that outfit."
"I think you'll like what I got you." Garth rose from the fire and went over to the luggage. From a wooden trunk he pulled a soft gray linen gown. Like his own outfit, it was covered with bead work and embroidery. The embroidery across the bust was excellent, showing yellow roses amongst green leaves. The sleeves would be tight to just above the elbow then billow widely out to wrist length. Following the same logic it was cut to cling tightly to her torso but then fall loosely to her feet.
"Oh Garth, it's beautiful." Tossing the blanket aside she strode around the fire to take it from him. "You remembered I love yellow roses too."
"Yes," Garth stammered his face feeling as hot as the coals glowing in the fire. Handing her the gown he turned and breathing hard left the campsite. Angry with himself as much as her, Garth walked a good hundred yards down the hill. He knew that Diana was just being Diana. She always lived her life on the edge. She was aggressive in everything she did, that was what made her such a good temporal policewoman. For her sex was just a toy. Commitment was something that was not part of Diana's make up. He had to get used to that idea and get a handle on his emotions.
Only when he felt in control did he return to their fire to find Diana dressed and cleaning up from their breakfast. She said nothing while Garth loaded the pack mule and saddled the horses. After a tour of the site satisfied him that they had forgotten nothing he spoke. "I see you found the rest of your outfit."
She now wore not only the dress he had bought for her, but a matching head piece. It framed her face then fell to drape across her shoulders before tumbling down her back to end at the waist.
"Yes, it really is a lovely outfit. All the others you picked out for me are too" she said. "And you were sweet to get me one with yellow roses. I like it a lot. Even the shoes fit."
"It looks good on you too," Garth allowed. Then saying nothing more he helped her onto her side saddle, mounted his own horse and pulling the mule started down the road that passed Saint Albun's.
The morning was beautiful. White clouds chased each other across a blue sky. For miles their path ran alongside a brook that gurgled over rocks or spread into quite pools. Tall oaks grew to either side and shaded the road. The trees were home to countless birds and squirrels that chipped or scolded as they passed.
At about two in the afternoon they stopped to lunch beside the stream where it widened into a very large pool. A grassy knoll overlooked the quiet water and here Diana spread their food and cooking gear while Garth tried to catch some fish. Rushes choked the sides of the pool but he found a spot clear of them where stream tumbled over an outcrop of rock and fell a few feet to begin the formation of the pond. Within minutes he had caught two medium sized fish which he cleaned and scaled before returning to Diana. She seized them with a smile and rolled them in meal. Adding some lard to a pan she soon had the fish frying.
"Can we go over our plan one more time," Garth asked Diana while the fish cooked. She nodded so he went on, "The Alternate Earther, if he's after Urban, as we believe, he'll expect the temporal police to protect their future Pope. He'll suspect one of us to be aboard the ship too. So rather than play hide and seek with him, I am going to just try to become Urban's best friend, shadow, and self appointed bodyguard. Because of the way I plan stick to our boy, the Alternate Earther will quickly recognize me for the time patrolman I am. Thinking he's discovered the opposition, hopefully he won't figure out he has two of us to worry about. It will make your job easier, and your cover better."
"I like it," said Diana. "With you on Urban all the time, I won't have to guard him too, and I can spend my time trying to figure out who our eneimy is."
"I think it's a good plan too," Garth said. "Now we'll be in Bologna in a few hours. There we will find you the escorts you'll need. But making sure we get you the right ones will be important. You posing as a rich young woman traveling to the Holy Land will only work if you trust and can get along with the men we hire to chaperone you."
Diana stopped, the fish she was turning frozen six inches above the pan. Her gaze locked on Garth. "Look, if I'm going to live with these guys six months I want men I can more than just get along with. If you catch my drift?" Her eyes sparkled as her face took on a mischievous look. "I was kinda hoping for a couple of Italian Stallions, actually. Then I could really enjoy myself fully."
"Well,” Garth said, refusing to rise to the bait, “like I said, Bologna is the place to look for them. Pardon me if I'm telling you things that you know, but Bologna, in this period of its history, is the educational capital of Italy. In fact the first University in all of Europe was founded there just a few years ago. As a result, the city is teeming with second and third sons of various Italian noble families. What with the oldest son always inheriting everything the family owns, these gentlemen must find ways to fend for themselves in the world. They flock to Bologna seeking an education so they can become lawyers or take holy orders. Many will jump at the chance to escort a rich and beautiful woman to the Holy Land while making a sizable amount of money in the process."
"I was aware of that." she said and turning the other fish went on in a dreamy tone, "Frat boys! What more could a girl ask? I'd like to get them as soon as possible. A woman alone in this period of history is asking for trouble. Once I have my escorts we can split up till we both take passage on that vessel that Odo de Lagery is using to get to the Holy Land. Once on board, we only get together secretly once in a while to compare notes."
* * *
As afternoon waned they crested the foothills and saw Bologna spread out below. A walled city with a river running through its center, Bologna appeared rather uniform from above, moderate sized stucco buildings with red Spanish tile roofs packed closely together. The only variation came from a number of large churches found at various locations and one central palace or citadel. The churches were not of the majestic sort that the gothic age would usher in. Instead, like most of the rest of the buildings, these churches were tile roofed affairs much like thee rest of the city, just built on a considerably larger scale.
At the city gate Garth asked the way to the Inn of the Brown Cockatrice. The guard nodded then gave them detailed directions, whereupon Garth tipped him with a bronze coin, earning himself a large and effusive smile from the man.
Finding a specific building in a medieval city was no mean task. In an age when less than one percent of the populace could read, lettered street signs were unknown. That's not to say streets had no names, they did. But what was the use of posting signs nobody understood. Instead graphic symbols were hung out to tell people where they were. The Street of the Brown Bear would have a placard illustrating such an animal at the corner. Places of business followed this same scheme. The Turks Head Chandler would have a drawing or a carving of a Turk's head over its door.
"Look," Garth pointed to a board with a crude illustration of a pig cut open and hanging from on a tree. "This must be the Street of the Butcher that the guard told us the Brown Cockatrice is on." He turned his horse into the narrow lane, the mule obediently coming along too. Diana followed behind as a Medieval woman should.
A hundred yards along the street Garth spied another sign. This one showed a strange creature that had a rooster's head and legs, a snake's scaly body and tail, and a dragon's wings. Garth turned in his saddle and pointed the sign out to Diana. "There's our brown cockatrice. Lovely creature, isn't it? They're said to be hatched from a cock's egg, on a dunghill, by a serpent. If you should ever run into a real one, be careful. Their gaze is supposed to be deadly."
* * *
"Two rooms, a good meal for my sister and me, and fodder for my animals" Garth told the innkeeper when asked what services he required.
The innkeeper was a thin nervous looking man with long gray hair and beard. He'd met the two travelers in the inn's central courtyard, coming out to greet them when they'd arrived. He now looked them over carefully and appraisingly. He seemed to like what he saw for he bowed his head and said. "Glad to be of service to you Sir and Madame." He then proceeded to name a price.
Garth thought the price excessive but didn't argue. "That will be fine," he said playing the part of a man with more money than was good for him.
The innkeeper turned and called out to a stable boy and two serving wenches. They rushed forward. "See to their animals," he told the boy. "Suldrun take the lady's baggage and show her to the Bluebird Room," he told one wench and to the other he said, "You, put this gentleman's things in the Raven Room next to hers."
The girl ordered to take Garth's belongings to his room favored him with a coy smile and then bending over to pick up his things made sure she displayed a tempting portion of her abundant bosom.
"Get along with you now," the innkeeper scolded. "This be a fine gentleman and not for the likes of you." He gave a half hearted kick at her too, but she was too agile for him and with a giggle ran into the building with Garth's baggage.
While their rooms were made ready, Garth and Diana were shown to a table in the inn's tap room. A huge blaze roared in a large fireplace. The evening outside had been cool and Garth welcomed its radiant heat on his face as they waited to be served. Lamps hung from the ceiling and a candle sputtered on their table but they did little to light the room's dark interior. The poor light was enough, however, to show that the walls of the room had been painted to depict a pastoral scene with unicorns and dragons on one side and knights and ladies on the other. The hay on the floor was fresh and the smells from the kitchen divine. Garth relaxed some deciding the Temporal Police file that said The Inn of the Brown Cockatrice was a good place to stay had not been mistaken.
They were served a large roasted hen, stuffed with onions and swimming in a savory broth. A crusty loaf of bread came with it and two large flagons of wine. A good meal for any age. It was served by the wench Suldrun who had taken Diana's trunk up to her room. The fine food put Garth in a good mood and he joked with the pretty young woman when she brought more wine. But the wench shyly refused to make eye contact with him and retreated back to the kitchen. Quickly forgetting her Garth had a good time talking with Diana. Feeling that he'd put the sexual tension between them to rest, he could now enjoy her company, and did his best to do so.
When they'd finished their meal, Diana went to her room and Garth asked the innkeeper to join him at the table. "A delicious meal in a fine inn," Garth complimented the man. "I was told of your establishment in places you've probably never heard of. They also tell me you are a man of honor and one to be trusted. Is this also true?"
"Well I. . ." the innkeeper stammered. "I would like to think so."
"I wonder then if I might prevail on you to do me and my sister Diana a great service?"
The innkeeper's eyes narrowed at these words, and Garth detected tenseness in his muscles. He wondered how often the man had heard those or words like them when someone was going to ask for a reduction in the bill or credit.
Garth hurried on, "Word reached me today that urgent business requires my attention in Rome. I must not delay my departure for there even a day. Yet this conflicts with a promise I made to my sister to take her to the Holy Land this year. As you could no doubt tell, she is a devout woman who yearns to walk in the Holy City and has vowed never to marry until she has worshiped at the Shrine of the Holy Sepulcher."
"An interesting quandary," the innkeeper said. He seemed a little more relaxed. "Yet I fail to see how I might have a part in solving it."
"Ah, you are too modest," Garth proclaimed. "You, being a man of integrity, whose reputation for such has been spoken of far and wide, can surely be of service to me in my hour of need. For instance you could take her into your care."
"Now wait," the innkeeper started to rise. "I run an inn not a home for unescorted women. My reputation would suffer were this to be noised abroad."
Garth tossed a heavy purse on to the table. It made a satisfying clink as it landed and drew the innkeeper's instant attention. "You will be adequately rewarded for your service, I promise you Sir."
The innkeeper said nothing, but slid back into his seat. The horse trading began. It lasted an hour. Then Garth went to Diana's room.
"It's all set up," he told her. "The innkeeper will find two escorts for you. Both will be of noble birth and good reputation. I also requested that they be less than thirty and good swordsman. Tomorrow morning he and I will set up an account with one of the local Jewish moneylenders. Into it I will place three hundred fifty ducats. Fifty to be paid to him when he has done his part, and one hundred fifty each for the men selected to escort you. The escorts will receive seventy five of their ducats to start with, the remaining half only to be paid to them upon your safe return from the Holy Land in the spring. By just giving them half up front that should insure they're diligence in seeing to your safety."
After he spoke with Diana, Garth returned to the inn's tap room. He spent an hour drinking wine, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the company of two merchants also staying at The Brown Cockatrice. Finally, his stomach rumbling contentedly from food and wine, Garth entered his room for the night. As he closed the door behind himself Garth heard a movement within. The dim light from the candle that hung near the door did not carry into the far corner of the room, but his ears told him someone lurked there. Was the innkeeper was foolish enough to think he could steal Garth's money, rather than earn it? Or, more likely, had some cutthroat seen his heavy purse when Garth had thrown it on the table and decided to make it his own? In a blur of motion Garth had his cloak off, wrapped a few times around his arm, and held in front of himself to protect against knives, while the short sword the temporal policeman wore at his belt seemed to leap into his other hand. Whoever hid in the corner would soon learn that a person as schooled in the martial arts as Garth was not to be taken lightly.
"Stand forth," Garth demanded.
In answer he heard the nervous laugh of a young woman. "I am no threat to you, Master," she said coming into the light, her head down meekly. It was the wench, Suldrun, from inn's tap room. Her serving clothes were gone, replaced by a soft linen gown that clung to her body in an alluring manner. "Lucius, the innkeeper says I am yours tonight," she went on. Hair brushed, face washed, and cheeks pinched to give them color, she raised her head and looked into Garth's eyes, "Do you find me pretty?"
He did. His mouth went dry and his heart beat faster. She was short, dark haired and eyed, with a touch of the Middle East evident in her bone structure and complexion.
"Your... your name's Suldrun, right?" Garth asked, his tongue almost failing him.
"I'm just one of the inn's servant girls."
"No, I remember. You are Suldrun, you brought me dinner. Is Bologna your home?" he asked to cover his nervousness. "You don't look Italian."
"I don't know where I am from. The master bought me from the slave pens when I was just a small child. I think I remember parents and a home by the sea, before the slavers came and took me, but I don't know where it was." She nervously fidgeted with her dress. Her head hanging down again, after that one furtive look she'd cast into his eyes.
Garth noticed that bread and wine lay on a sideboard. He poured some of the burgundy colored liquid into a beaker and offered it to her. "Does the master send you too many of his guest's quarters?"
"No, not very much," she said avoiding the wine. "Some of the other girls go willingly, to earn a little extra. But I... He saw you smile at me as I brought you dinner and so..." her voice trailed off again.
"Here, take the wine, it won't bite you," he offered it to her again.
"No. 'Tis the Master's special wine; he gives it only to important guests. Serving girls are not allowed to drink it."
"Well he gave it to me, and now I'm giving it to you. So take some, my arm grows tired from holding it out."
She looked at Garth a moment then hesitantly approached him to take the proffered mug. Stepping quickly back she drank a few swallows. Looking at him strangely she said, "You are different. You did not grab me as I came for the wine. You're not like others I have been with," she said matter-of-factly.
"I will not touch you unless you want to be touched. Now come, sit on the bed. Tell me of yourself," Garth held out his hand and she took it. He led her over to the bed. She gave him that same puzzled look, when, instead of sitting beside her, Garth took the room's one wooden chair and sat facing her in it. "How do you like your work in the inn?" he asked.
It took him an hour, but he got the tale out of her by means of persistence and liberal quantities of the wine. The inn was her life. Lucky for her, the innkeeper was not a hard taskmaster, and fair in his punishments. He treated his help with kindness. Sometimes, if they worked hard, those that were slaves, could even earn their freedom after twenty years. Suldrun had had one child, and that by the innkeeper. The infant, a boy, died as so many did in this age, before his first birthday. Since then, the master had not called her to his bed.
When her tale was finished Garth found himself in a dilemma about what to do with Suldrun. If he sent her out of the room, it would probably be to a beating, for they would assume she had failed to please him. It had been obvious from her tale that she did not look forward to times the innkeeper sent her to spend a night with guests; but it was part of her lot in life, and she accepted it as she did that she would spend this night with him. Garth toyed with the idea of keeping her here, but not sleeping with her. However, he feared that would give rise to speculation. There would be questions, wondered at if not asked. It was unusual enough that a man would entrust his sister to the care of an innkeeper. If that man also lacked normal carnal urges it might compromise Diana's position.
Adding to his problem, all the wine he'd drunk before returning to his room had brought back visions of Diana lying naked by the fire last night. Garth knew he needed one of two things, either a woman or a cold shower. Since a cold shower was out of the question, that left Suldrun. But how would he explain it to Diana after acting like such a prude last night and this morning. The walls in this inn were so thin she had to know he had female company in his room.
Garth's mind searched for an excuse and then found one. He had been beaten in preparation for this mission and still bore the marks of it. Much of medieval medicine was pure boulderdash, but still it contained more truth than modern scholars were willing to admit. Physicians of this age believed injuries such as he'd sustained could upset the delicate balance of humors in the human body. Brother Roberto, seeing his bruises, had told him they might result in uncontrollable passions. Could it be the monk was right?
The excuse was thin, but just as a drowning man will grasp at a floating straw, or an alcoholic any reason to drink, so Garth laid aside his qualms. Any lingering doubts or twinges of guilt evaporated quickly when he invited Suldrun to his arms, and she came willingly.
A couple of hours later found Suldrun snuggled close to Garth. In her strange open way she told him he was a perplexing man and went on to explain that her exposure to love making in the past had been limited to harsh, sometimes painful groping followed by a minute or two of pounding pelvises punctuated by grunts and then followed quickly by snores. What it had lacked in satisfaction, at least it made up for in its brevity. With Garth, however, it had lasted well in excess of an hour and been like nothing she'd ever even imagined.
"I've never met a man like you," she told him. "You talk to a slave like me, as an equal. Instead of bragging and telling me of all the things you have done, you want to know about my life. You ask questions, then while I answer, you stare into my soul. And when we make love, you seek for more than just your own pleasure. You touch me in ways I have never been touched. You do things to me I expected to have to do for myself, and later confess to a priest.
"I will be sad when you leave."
* * *
Garth woke early, but lay still. Suldrun's arms were still around him. He felt her warm breath on his cheek. A firm breast rested in the crook of his arm and the scent of her hair filled his nose. He felt stirrings in himself that were not conducive to the serious thinking he had to do this morning. Forcing his mind to concentrate, he wondered how best to keep an eye on things in the inn after he left today. He trusted the innkeeper to a certain extent. The man was being well compensated for his part in seeing Diana safely to and from the Holy Land. Still, Garth knew he'd be foolish to trust Lucius completely. He must find a way to be nearby by in case of trouble. I'll hire a man who can keep an eye on things here at the Brown Cockatrice, he conjectured. Then Suldrun stirred in her sleep an idea suggested itself to him. At first he put it aside but his mind kept returning to it. The more he thought about it the more realized that, if Suldrun would go along, it just might work.
Garth ran his hand lightly down the sleeping woman's flank and watched gooseflesh form where his fingers wandered. Soon her eyes were open and then her mouth as it hungrily sought his. He'd only meant to awaken her since she figured prominently in his plan. But the idea could wait, he decided when her hands started raising gooseflesh of their own, but on him this time.
"Suldrun," he asked later, when they lay exhausted in each others' arms, "as a slave, how free are you to wonder around Bologna?"
"I can go and come as I like, so long as I do not miss my work. Most of the time my chores take only ten or twelve hours, leaving me half of the day to do as I like. I can even roam about the city if I choose. Lucius knows I will not run away. I have no where to go."
"Would you like to earn a little money for yourself helping me during your half of the day?"
She put her arms around Garth and looked into his face. "If you see into my soul like I think you do, you know the answer. While you slept last night, I lay awake and wondered if there are others like you, and I have just not met them. I tell myself there must be. If I earn my freedom in a few years, I will go and find one. Last night you gave me the gift of hope, and for that I owe you a great debt. I will help you gladly, but I will take no money for it."
Her little speech left Garth feeling uncomfortable. He had not tried to steal himself a place in her heart, just show her a good time. And when he thought about it he knew the last few hours had seen him develop some tender feelings for her too. But, he was on a mission and he needed her help. Any feelings he had must be put aside. Having told himself thus, he plunged ahead with his idea.
"Then first I must ask you to keep what I say secret," Garth told Suldrun. She nodded. "I lied to your master. I told him that I will go to Rome today, but I really will not leave Bologna, just this inn. In a few days Diana and I will leave for Jerusalem. On the trip we will meet a strange man from a far country. It is very important that he not know we are related. It could very well mean our lives if this man found out our secret. So I have asked Lucius to find two men of Bologna to escort my sister on her Pilgrimage to the Holy Land. I do not want these men to even know what I look like. If they don't, they cannot accidentally give me away to this stranger. In this way I can travel near Diana, without anyone realizing we are related."
Suldrun rose and paced the room, "But how can I help? I heard the others talking, saying Lucius will pick men to guard your sister on her trip. But he will not ask me about which men to choose. All that old goat will want me to tell him are the details of our love making last night." She turned and looked up into his eyes, "That I will not share with anyone."
Garth took her hand, "You can help me in many ways. Find out the names of the men chosen and report them to me. Tell me what you can of them. Most importantly, keep a watch on Diana, and bring me any messages she gives you."
* * *
Garth sat in the tap room of the Four Gargoyles Tavern drinking ale. Suldrun had reported here to him each day for the past week without incident. Garth's plan was going well. Word of the need for escorts had gone out and Lucius was conscientiously interviewing candidates. Both Garth and Diana were pleased with the way things were working out.
This tavern was quite a step down from the Brown Cockatrice. The food was poor, the wine rancid, and things generally dirty and foul smelling. Its one redeeming quality was that it lay about a mile from the inn where Suldrun worked. She could make the trip easily, yet she was not known here.
Today, however, she was late. Where was she? Had the old innkeeper given her extra work? Garth's worries increased with each heart beat she was delayed. His anxiety ran deeper than just concern for his mission. He'd allowed a relationship to develop between them. He knew their affair was no threat to the historical time line. The little people like Suldrun and himself made only small ripples on the river of time. It was the boulders and sandbars like Urban II that bent and twisted history's stream as it flowed around them. He could even get Suldrun pregnant with little temporal consequence. The human gene pool was so large and diverse any contribution he made would be diluted and lost within a few generations. No, Garth's worries were personal. He'd come to really care about her and her well being.
Suldrun's growing importance to him concerned Garth. This was not supposed to happen. He was a sophisticated twenty-first century man, and she an illiterate medieval slave girl. "What do we have in common?" he asked himself again. "What does she offer to me that makes me feel this way?" He didn't know the answer except to say that sometimes two people meet and mesh so well that a relationship just naturally develops.
Garth's hand drifted toward a pocket in his jacket. A stiff parchment document there crackled satisfyingly at his touch. Whatever the reason, she'd stolen his heart. There was no denying that.
Just then he saw her come through the door and look around. With a sigh of relief he stood. Suldrun spotted him and came quickly over. When she was seated, Garth ordered ale for her too. While they waited, she told him her news. "Lucius has announced he will name Diana's escorts tomorrow morning. There are four final candidates, and they must all be present, if they want to be chosen. From them he will pick the two to take Diana to Jerusalem. But Diana wishes me to tell you that she likes only three of the four finalists. The fourth, Rhialto the Genovese, is no good. This I could have told you myself, and I am surprised my master the inn keeper would consider him. Rhialto is a pompous and cruel pig. He comes to the Brown Cockatrice often when he is in Bologna. He always demands the inn's best room where he sleeps with one of the girls. Almost every time he beats them for some petty reason. He thinks that puts a woman in his power and makes them more compliant when he beds them. I still carry his mark." She paused and pulled back her hair to show Garth a scar on her scalp. "When he did this to me, I clawed his face. The master beat me even worse, when he saw what I had done to a customer, but Rhialto has never again asked for me, so I consider it a good trade.
"Diana does not like him either. He tried to woo her to his couch last night. She told me to tell you..." Suldrun frowned. "Diana said it was important that I repeat her words exactly as she spoke them... She said, 'If I am to enjoy my trip fully, Rhialto will not be one of my escorts.' That much even a slave girl knows, so there must be hidden meaning in these words. Do you understand her?"
"Yes," Garth laughed.
Suldrun's ale came and she took a long drink from the beaker. When she put it down, her face wore a look of concern. "I worry Rhialto will be chosen anyway. The reason I am late is he was talking with Lucius, and I paused in my cleaning to listen to their conversation. Rhialto is promising Lucius that if he is picked, he will give Lucius a portion of the money paid to the escorts. Lucius made him no guarantee, but I fear greed will now guide his choice."
Garth took her hand. "It would appear I must deal with this Rhialto, but first I want some time alone with you." Garth took Suldrun to the room he rented behind the tavern. Dark and windowless, the dank chamber smelled of the old straw that covered its floor. Its furniture consisted of a pallet that lay on the floor over some of the straw. The pallet was large, designed for the five or six men the tavern's owner normally rented this room to. However, Garth's silver had gotten him exclusive use of it while he was a guest of at Four Gargoyles. The past week had seen Suldrun and Garth spent all her free hours in this room. The surroundings were poor, but they were together, and that was enough.
As soon as the door was secured, Garth took Suldrun into his arms. Later he held her close. "I have been to a slave buyer today," he told her.
"Why would you go to one of those filthy men?" she asked.
Garth ignored her question. "Remember you told me once you desired to find a man to love you if Lucius should set free in three years. I fear that will not be easy. You are already well past the normal age of marriage."
"Why do you try to destroy the only hope that now brightens my life?" she asked sadly. "When you leave that hope is all that I will have left." She started to cry.
Garth took her face in his hands and turned it toward himself. "I want to give you more than just hope. A woman in her mid- twenties, a former slave, with no money could only marry a peasant, and he probably a widower with ten children. He would take you home to live in a wattle and daub hut. You deserve better. Here take this." Garth handed her the piece of parchment. She held it this way and that but the writing on it meant nothing to her.
"What is it," she asked.
"It's your freedom, Suldrun. I had Lothair the Slaver buy you for me today from Lucius. Then I had a lawyer prepare these manumission papers. That's a big word, but it means this paper says you are free. You are no longer anybody's slave."
Suldrun dropped to the pallet like she had just been struck. Mouth open, she just stared at the piece of parchment in her hand, then held it to her breast.
“Lucius said nothing!”
"Those were his instructions, besides he only knows he sold you. Slavery is an evil, Suldrun. This is a truth you know better than I. It makes me very happy to free you from it."
She stood and hugged him. Tears filled her eyes, then she started to sob. He held her close while her body shook. When she stopped, he gently pushed her back. "This is for you too." It was a purse, he opened it and three gold and six silver pieces fell into her hand. "Buy some nice clothes. Move to another city where you are not known. There use this as your dowry. With it and your good looks, even inspite of your age, you will have the pick of the tradesmen and guildsmen of the city. I want your dream of a good husband who will love and value you to come true. With this paper and money it can. Then someday, if it pleases you, name a son after me.”
"Why do you do this for me, I'm just a serving girl?"
He turned away and paced the room. Finally turning back to her, he said, "Until just moments ago I asked myself that same question. Now I think I know the answer. You say, I gave you hope, but Suldrun, you gave me something rare too; you gave me a woman's love. Oh, I know you never said the word, but I've felt it in your touch, seen it in your eyes and just now I hear it in your voice. It's something I've had very little of in my life. And now that I've found it, I must leave it. Our time together is running out. I have no choice. I must go soon. I thought about asking you to come with me, but it will be too dangerous. So the least I can do is assure your future before I go. It's my way of thanking you for something that means a lot to me."
* * *
Evening found Garth seated in an even more disreputable tavern down near the river. He'd picked a seat at a table facing the door. The fat man who'd just entered had to be Rhialto. He fit Suldrun's description perfectly. Pale and obese, the man had multiple chins below a short black beard, and greasy locks of hair that fell to his shoulders. He wore light brown pants with white leggings. His jacket matched the pants where it wasn't food stained or purple from wine.
Hand on his sword's hilt, Rhialto stared around the tap room, his small dark eyes flicking here then there. His face was like a piece of suet, with puffy slits for eyelids. Its only color came from a large red nose and his tongue, which shot out frequently to lick his lips. Garth could see the man was nervous; he probably didn't frequent a low class places like this very often. Seeing the tavern keeper, Rhialto approached him and asked a few questions. The man pointed to Garth and turned his back on the Genovese.
The fat man came and stood over Garth. "You must be Rhialto," Garth said without looking up. "Have a seat."
Rhialto remained standing, but spoke, "A boy came to my inn and said a man named Armano waited here with some money owed me. Well, the tavern keeper says you are Armano and I am Rhialto, so give me the money. I must be on my way. Important matters await my attention"
"I cannot do so until I determine if you are the right Rhialto."
"Of course I am the right Rhialto, would I be here if I weren't?" The fat man's temper flared.
"You are sure, but I am not. First I must be convinced if you are to take the money."
Rhialto fairly danced with rage. "Be warned, sir. I am not a man to be trifled with. I will not suffer this impudence for long. I demand my money."
"Then sit and answer my questions."
Rhialto looked to the left and the right as if undecided what to do, then with evident distaste took a seat across the table from Garth. When the fat man's face got close to the candle Garth could see the deep pores that covered his complexion and thought him even uglier than Suldrun had described.
"Now," Garth continued, "last year, in Naples, I befriended a certain Titus the Amber Factor. We became like brothers. We drank and wenched our way across half of Italy. Then he caught the Spanish pox in Sicily. As he lay dying, he made me swear to pay off his debts, so his soul might pass by Saint Peter with a minimum of tribulation. The hardest for me to find has been one Rhialto from Genoa. This man loaned Titus enough money to see him through a rough winter after pirates had stolen all his goods. T'would have been in the sixth year of Leo IX's papacy, some ten years ago."
Rhialto pulled at his beard; his brow seemingly furrowed in thought. "'Twas long ago, but I seem to remember a Titus. At the time my coffers were fuller than they are today. Then I could afford such largess. I helped out many friends, a certain Titus being one of them. So then, it is settled. I am your man. Give over the sum owed, and we will be off about our ways."
"I am still not convinced," Garth said.
"What?" the fat man leaped to his feet. "You accuse me of lying? Me, Rhialto, who is known from Rome to Constantinople for his veracity. Sir, you wound me."
"Well, I... Oh, all right," Garth appeared to hesitate, "'tis true enough that you are the only Rhialto I have found who claims the money. That being the case, I will give it to you, so that I might be free of my obligation to Titus. You sir, however, if you have deceived me, you will answer to God for your lie."
Rhialto said nothing but stuck out his hand. Garth pushed it aside. "You think I would carry such a sum into this den of iniquity? Were I so foolish my life would soon be forfeit. No, 'tis down on the dock by the river. Come we will get it now."
Rhialto eyes bulged. "Is it so much!" he whispered. "Then you must bring it to me at my inn?"
"Of course it is a large amount. Do you not remember how much you lent Titus?”
“I. . . I forgot. The interest must have compounded. . . Yes, it would not be safe to be abroad with such an amount. You must deliver it to me at my inn. I stay at. . .
“Sorry,” Garth interrupted. “I have done my part. I have found you and offered you the money. If you do not want it I will give it to the church in your name. That may even be the best thing to do, it would buy you absolution from many sins."
"No, I will take what is mine, thank you. Is the walk long? My feet are tender, and I fear I will take a chill in the night air."
"It's not more than a few hundred paces from here. Come, I too have business to attend to, and time is wasting."
Garth led the reluctant Rhialto to a dark lonely dock where a small skiff was tied up. "That's my boat. The money is in a purse hidden there," Garth pointed to the bow.
“You leave valuables alone in such a place? You are a knave, and invite thievery. It would not surprise me to find my money is gone, stolen by some vagabond." Rhialto bent over to peer in to the boat. "I see nothing. If this be the case, you must make it up from your..." Rhialto did not finish the sentence. Garth had clubbed him on the neck, knocking the fat man to the ground unconscious.
Garth fetched a rope and bound Rhialto. He tied the knots so the rope could be gotten off, but only after hours of labor. Next Garth dragged the unconscious Genovese to the boat and dumped him in it. Then removing the boat's two oars and untying the lanyard, he pushed the skiff out into a current made swift by spring rains and melted snow. By the time Rhialto regained consciousness, got himself loose from the ropes, reached shore and walked back to Bologna, the selection process for Diana's escorts would long be over.
Garth watched Rhialto disappear into the darkness down stream. Tomorrow, Diana will have her Italians, he thought. But I, I will be alone again.

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