Chapter 10

Sitting before the fire, safely settled in a new room located in a different wing, I stared into the flames enjoying the warmth. I never knew how cold castles became at night. Makes sense, being made of stone and all. Still, not something you think about in the 21st century. I sat with my feet pulled up underneath me on the chair, wrapped in a nightgown and robe for warmth. I had sneaked a smaller lute, one that reminded me of a ukulele, into my room. Absent-mindedly strumming it, I thought about the events of the day and smiled. Strangely, it had been a good day, starting with the ridiculous dress fitting in the queen’s rooms, the race to the river with the prince, skipping rocks and flying a kite...

It had felt wonderful to run back and forth on the hill, actually instructing Leonardo da Vinci how to fly his own kite. The kite had been beautifully constructed to look like bird wings. I’d had the impression it was an experiment for something far greater, like a hang glider maybe. The string was tied intricately on either side down the center of the kite, so that you could tug one way or the other and make it turn this way or that. The first few tries to get it airborne were humorous trials in error. We got it up just high enough for it to take a nosedive and nearly decapitate the prince.

“It’s all about the timing!” I tried explaining. I showed Prince Charles how to let out the string a little at a time while we ran, me holding the kite behind him, and then how to tug and continue running when I let go. Da Vinci stood to the side, cheering us on.

“OK, ready?” the prince asked.

“I have every confidence you will make it fly this time!” Leonardo said, clasping his hands together.

“Ready,” I nodded to the prince to start running. I watched carefully as he let out the slack on the string. When I felt the kite struggling to take off on its own, I yelled, “GO!” and launched it into the air above my head as hard as I could. The prince continued running, simultaneously letting out more string. And suddenly...it was flying!

“Stop,” I called out. I didn’t know whether he could tell that it was flying on its own now.

“Oh!” Leonardo exclaimed, clear excitement showing on his face. “It worked. It flies!”

I ran to stand beside the prince, looking up in awe at the magnificent wings floating high above.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathed. He nodded in agreement and I could see the look of awe mirrored in his own face. “Try moving it to the right or left,” I suggested. He glanced at me like I was insane.

“How?” he asked simply. It was hard to remember that this was his first time ever flying a kite. I had fond memories of long summers spent at the Jersey Shore with my parents, running on the beach with my dad, flying a kite, making it do loops in the sky. My dad had stood behind me, his hands on mine, teaching me how to do it on my own. There was no way I’d be able to reach around the prince’s broad shoulders to do the same. So I bent beneath his arm and fit myself perfectly right in front of him. I could tell I’d shocked him by the way he jolted in surprise. The kite jerked in the sky, following his movement.

“Steady,” I said, putting my hands over his on the strings. I looked over my shoulder at him then.

“Trust me?” I asked, smiling. He nodded once. I tried really hard not to dwell on how nice it felt to be in his arms. Or the fact that he smelled really good, like sunshine and the outdoors. Not exactly Abercrombie, but I confess, I liked it more. Then I tugged at the string in our right hands and we watched as the kite took a sharp turn downward in that direction.

“It’s going to fall!” the prince declared, sounding alarmed, body tensed and ready to run if needed.

“No, it’s not,” I told him calmly while tugging the string in our left hands and making it turn in that direction. “See?” I nodded to the sky with my head. “It will go where you lead it. Let’s turn it wide now. Follow my arms,” I assured him. Waving our arms together one way and then the other, we watched as the kite followed, swooping down and flying back up in each direction.

“Amazing,” the prince whispered.

“Yes, quite,” Leonardo answered, having come to stand next to us, hands clasped behind his back. All three of us had our faces raised to the sky and the wings in flight. It really was magical–until I felt the prince tense behind me.

“It seems I must go,” the prince whispered. And just like that, the spell was broken. I turned and noticed he was looking back at the castle where a girl stood. It was easy to tell who it was too. Genevieve. A stable boy was standing next to her, holding the reins of two horses.

“Yes, it looks like you must,” I answered, trying to keep disappointment from my voice. There was no reason I should have felt disappointed whatsoever. But I did, all the same.

“It’s OK,” I told him as I moved my hands beneath his to grasp the strings. “I’ve got it. You can let go.” But he stood for a minute longer, his hands over mine, his thumbs brushing once, twice over my knuckles. Then he dropped his arms to his sides, stepped back, turned, and was gone. I could feel the empty space behind me like it was a palpable thing.

“Come,” Leonardo said to me. “Let us take refreshment in my garden, I’ve had a luncheon laid out.” He gestured toward a gate beyond the castle wall. I reeled in the kite and Leonardo caught it as it floated back down. I sighed as he gingerly tucked it back under his arm.

“I think you have flown a similar contraption before?” he questioned. Um, it was kind of difficult to deny it at this point.

“Yes, something similar. At a beach, with my father. Seems a long time ago.” Or a long time into the future? Ack, this was so confusing. He nodded and led the way through his gate where a table was set with food.

“Please, sit,” he gestured toward a chair, then filled a plate for me. It felt so good to be outside, and I realized I was famished. I was happy for the freshly baked bread, slices of carved ham, and fruit.

“This looks delicious,” I told him as I took the plate he handed me. He then sat down and filled his own plate.

“I am happy to have someone with whom to share it. Too bad Prince Charles couldn’t stay. I get the impression he was rather enjoying the company.” He had a sparkle in his eye and I had to smile in return.

“Hmmm. Do you think so? I’ll confess I don’t know him well enough to make that kind of assessment. Yet, I have noticed he does not smile much.” I was picking up on this more formal 16th-century speech. Was quite proud of myself actually.

“True,” Da Vinci agreed. “It is a heavy burden, to be a prince. I sometimes wonder if he thinks smiling is a form of weakness? But never mind. He found some moments of reprieve this morning, and for that, I am grateful to you, my dear.”

“Yes, well,” I hedged, cheeks turning red. I looked down at my plate to hide my embarrassment.

“Now. Tell me about yourself. Where do you come from?”

“Ah. Well now that is the question, is it not? Where do I come from? I’m afraid I have no answer that you will find satisfactory.”

“Oh, try my dear. You’ll find me very open-minded for the old man that I am.”

It was true. Of all the people I could come across in this time period, Leonardo da Vinci was probably the only one who would possibly believe I came from where I did. But could even his imagination stretch that far? I wasn’t sure. Add to that, I didn’t want to cause him to have a heart attack or something. On the other hand, I seriously needed to talk to someone about how I came to be here, and if there was a way to get back. Could I trust da Vinci? From all I knew about him, I believed I could. But I tested the waters, just in case.

“Well,” I started. “May I ask you a question first?”

“Certainly,” he replied, leaning his elbows on the table and propping his chin on his linked hands. He gave me his full attention.

“What do you know about the concept of space and time? Do you believe there could be a, um, I don’t know...hole between them?” I didn’t even know exactly what to ask because I knew nothing about space and time; science wasn’t my best subject. His right eyebrow shot up beneath the cap he wore on his head. He seemed to repeat my question very carefully.

“A hole, or opening, would you say? Between space and time?” His eyes sparkled with something that looked like excitement, but it was hard to tell. He kept his face guarded.

“Yes, exactly, an opening perhaps. Where if a person, let’s say, fell through it somehow…,” I continued tentatively.

“Yes? Yes?” he questioned. Hands now flat on the table, he leaned closer as if to hear me better.

“...and went, well, to a different time altogether...” He jumped up so fast the table rattled and an apple rolled off the top, hitting the ground with a soft thud. I reached out to steady the table, but he grabbed my hand to help me stand.

“Come!” he said, looking around to make sure no one else was about. “You must come with me!” A bit alarmed, but intrigued as well, I followed him. I mean, I didn’t think he would do me any harm. Not that I had much of a choice, he was practically dragging me along with him and I fought to keep up. I was amazed at how fast he could move at his age. Into his house we went and down a flight of stairs. His house was slightly familiar and I thought it so strange that merely a few weeks before, I’d taken a tour of it with my parents. Why did it seem ages now? Then, I was learning about da Vinci and his brilliant mind, ooohing and ahhhing over inventions of his that had been built for all the world to see, displayed in this very house. A mobile, a bike, a helicopter, a tank. So many things! None of them were here now...now that I was being pulled along by the very inventor/scientist/artist himself.

We came to a room at the bottom of the stairs and he threw the door open. In it was a table filled with papers, ink in glass pots, plumes for writing or drawing. The walls were covered in tapestries, and there was a bed in the corner that looked like it hadn’t been slept in for years. For it too, was covered in scrolls of paper. The room was dark, with only a little light seeping around the edges of one of the tapestries. He let go of my hand as we stood in the room.

“Stay right there,” he demanded. “One moment.” He walked over to a tapestry and threw it wide so light from the window lit up the room. It was like the sun rising over the moon, so bright was the contrast to the darkness before. Still, he went to his table and ruffled through his papers, finding a candle and holder.

“Ah-ha!” he exclaimed excitedly, promptly twisting it into a holder. He then found a flint and stone and struck them a few times until the wick of the candle could catch a spark and light. I watched him, curiously, and looked round the room, catching glimpses of some of the drawings. They seemed to be drawn in a sepia colored ink, and I recognized sketches of the “Vitruvian Man”: the famous ink drawing of a man, or two men superimposed one on top of the other, drawn in the middle of a circle within a square. I thought about the T-shirt souvenir my dad had bought for himself with a replica of that very drawing. In the corner of the room stood an easel holding a canvas with a cloth hung over it. Discarded paints and brushes were on a nearby table. This was definitely a workroom then. I heard a click and a screech like a knob turning and a door opening. Glancing at Leonardo, I realized he held open a door that was hidden in a wall beneath one of the tapestries. Oh dear, this looked familiar too. Only, I hadn’t seen it on the day we toured da Vinci’s home.

“Is that…?” I started, trying to form coherent words, my mind racing, “a, a tunnel that leads to, to the castle?” Why was I stuttering? I could see da Vinci’s face, half in the shadow of the tunnel, the other half lit up by candlelight, his excitement nearly bubbling over.

“Yes, yes of course! Come, follow closely.” And he was off through the door, the light of the candle glowing on the walls of the tunnel and getting farther away. I hesitated for a moment. After all, the last time I willingly entered this tunnel, I ended up in a different century! Making up my mind, I stepped over the threshold and ran to catch up to da Vinci, the cold, damp, mustiness of the tunnel hitting me all at once. He obviously knew where we were going, as his determined step took us to the right, and then to the left, down a slope, and up the other side. How far did this thing go? I wondered, again, not for the first time. Then I saw something sparkle up ahead from the candlelight. Da Vinci slowed his pace, and stopped altogether, looking up and around. Following suit, I strained to see what he was looking at.

It seemed as though there were hundreds of little mirrors on the wall and ceiling. Looking down at the floor, I saw some reflected there too. It was a circle of mirrors, the light bouncing off them, creating a glittery light in the darkened tunnel. As I stepped closer, I could hear a faint humming, like the hum of an electrical power plant. But that didn’t make sense; there was no such thing as electricity here. I stepped back and the humming stopped. That was strange.

“Did you hear that?” I asked da Vinci, then stepped closer again, to see if it was my imagination. Nope, there it was again. An unmistakable hum. I looked at da Vinci to see if he’d heard it too. He just stood staring at me with wide eyes, nodding his head up and down.

“I hear it, but I do not dare believe it,” he answered. I stepped closer and the humming increased yet again. Still inching forward, the sound getting louder with each step, I could feel a weak pull, like that of a vacuum–although, more like a vacuum that might have a glob of something stuck in the hose–until I stood in the center of the circle of mirrors, the humming a full buzz now.

“Is this…?” I started to ask. “Is it a portal of some sort?” Totally wasn’t sure if such a thing was called a portal or not. I wasn’t up on Sci-Fi lingo, and this was all so unreal anyway. Total Twilight Zone. Cue the famous theme song.

“I have suspected, but was unsure,” he began. “Now, once again, where are you from?” he asked, and I sighed. It seemed as if there was no turning back now.

“If you promise not to think I’m completely crazy, I will tell you.” I answered.

“You have my word,” he said, nodding his head for me to continue. I walked back toward him, standing just a few feet from him so he could clearly see my face.

“I’m from a place called America. Which, as far as I know, was just discovered by Columbus a few years ago. Where I’m from, the date now is 2014.” And then, as if to prove it, I dug deep into the pocket of my skirts, and pulled out my iPhone. Da Vinci gingerly took it from my hand, and turned it this way and that.

“What is it?” he whispered in awe.

“It’s a smart phone. A cellular device? Um, let’s see…” Explaining this could take a long time. “Maybe we should head back and have a seat. This will take awhile to explain, if you are willing to listen.” My head was whirling with the prospect of having to give a detailed account of the history of communication from the 16th century on.

“Oh I would very much like to hear what you have to say!” I could tell how excited he was about the idea of talking to someone from the future. Thank goodness he didn’t think I was a total freak.

“But first,” I hesitated,” can I try stepping through one more time?” I gestured toward the portal. I wasn’t sure how the whole thing worked, but I had to try. So I walked back toward the circle, hearing the buzz, feeling the pull. I tentatively put a foot over the mirrors on the floor and felt wind picking up from somewhere, swirling around me. Holding my breath, I walked all the way through, but nothing happened. Except for the humming, and swirling wind. I’ll admit it, my heart sank. What was the key to getting back? Surely there had to be a way. I turned back to da Vinci and shrugged.

“Well,” I said,” it was worth a try.” I couldn’t keep the dejection from my voice. “Do you think,” I started, hesitating again–I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but if there was any hope at all of seeing my family again, I knew my chances were tied up with this man’s ability to make that happen–“do you think you can help me get back?” I finally asked.

“I shall do my best to help you, dear girl. Now come, let us talk of things of the future.” He gave me back my iPhone, and we retraced our steps through the tunnels to his home.

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The fire had burned low in the grate, and I thought about getting up to throw another log on it to keep it burning through the night. But I continued strumming my wannabe Uke, not wanting to move right away, content after thoughts of the day, hope burning strong inside after my encounter with da Vinci. Together, we wondered if the iPhone had something to do with facilitating my passage through time. I explained to him what a battery was, and thought that if we could find a way to charge it, maybe we could get it working again to some extent. I left it with him, with his promise he would keep it safe, and try to find a way. I realized I was picking a tune of a Jason Mraz song “I’m Yours.” Ha! How true was that? I thought, as the words I sang spoke of falling and trying to get back. I don’t think the lyrics were referring to time travel, though.

I heard a faint knock on my door, and stopped strumming immediately, afraid I’d awakened someone. Listening closely, the knock came again. It must be Nicole, I thought. Surely whoever left a dead bloody rat in my bed the night before wouldn’t now knock on my door. Right? I nodded at my logic, put the instrument down and tiptoed to the door.

“Yes?” I whispered through the door. “Nicole is that you?”

“No, it’s me,” came a voice that made my traitorous heart skip a beat. I unlocked the door and cracked it open.

“Prince Charles?” I asked. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” he answered. “It is only, I heard music coming from your room and knew that you were still awake.”

“Oh, sorry! I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

”Not at all. I just…,” he hesitated, “I wanted to give you this.” He held up a small velvet pouch, cinched together at the top with a silky ribbon. I opened my hand and held it out, palm up. He dropped the bag into my hand and wrapped my fingers around it, holding it in place.

“To thank you for today,” he said simply. Then gave my hand a squeeze, bowed, wished me good night, and was gone.

I closed my door and pushed the lock back in place, hand still closed over the pouch. Turning, I leaned my back against the door and gently opened the bag, dumping out the contents into my other hand. Sliding down the door, I sat, propped my hand up on a knee, and stared at the gift I’d been given. A handful of carefully chosen river-worn rocks, flat and perfect for skipping. One in the middle caught my eye and I picked it up for a closer look. It was a rare one, I think. Shaped like a heart, with a white ring that went all the way around it. The butterflies kicked up their wings in my stomach once more. And a stupid, silly grin spread across my face.