The Loved and the Lost (34 page)

“Oh, this soup is good,” Guilietta said, still perched up in bed. “More, husband,” and the younger Hansum lifted the wooden spoon from the bowl, blowing on it gently before he put it to his wife's lips. As she sipped, her adoring eyes were locked on the similar warm looks of her Hansum. The older Hansum, Lincoln and Shamira had been watching them since Bembo brought up the soup Nuca prepared. Then Bembo left to sleep over at Nuca and her husband, Bruno's house, since the soldiers were forbidding anyone to sleep in the barn.

Meanwhile the younger Lincoln, Shamira and the Master were in with the Signora, giving her another dose of the vinegar Master Calabreezi had ordered to purge her bowels. It would take all of them to get it down her and then clean up, after it had sped through her system.

The older Hansum watched his younger self feed Guilietta another spoonful of soup and a morsel of fine, white bread, popping it in her mouth. Then he dabbed her lips with a linen.

“Maybe wait awhile before you have more,
mia amore
,” the young husband suggested. “You haven't eaten much and your stomach will be sensitive.”

“You take such good care of me,” Guilietta sighed, leaning forward and kissing Hansum on the mouth.

“Oh, I've missed that,” the younger Hansum said.

The older Hansum thought how he was speaking for both of them. He looked up to see his Lincoln and Shamira watching him. He smiled to show he was all right.

“Guilietta, you must sleep now,” the younger Hansum said. “It's late. Close your eyes and . . .”

“I want you to stay here with me,” she protested, taking his arm.

“I'll sit with you till you fall asleep, and then I have to talk with your father and the others. But I shall crawl into bed with you afterwards.”

A smile came upon Guilietta that lit up the whole room and everybody's hearts, in and out of phase. She lay down, nestling her head into her pillow and Hansum tucked the covers over her shoulders. He kissed her forehead, her eyes, and then started humming a lullaby that wouldn't be composed for many centuries.

The older Hansum shook his head, to force himself to get serious.

“With things happening differently, I guess it doesn't matter if we change things further. We've got to get Guil medicine to stop the infection from flaring up.”

“But the rule about modern . . .” the older Lincoln started.

“I don't give a fig about that now,” Hansum said. “The only thing is to keep her healthy. I won't let her die again. But what to get and where to get it?”

“How about Signora Baroni?” out-of-phase Shamira suggested. “Remember, she's actually a colleague of Arimus from the 31
^st
-century.”

“Right,” Hansum said, snapping his fingers.

The younger Hansum, seeing that Guilietta was asleep, stood, walked right through the out-of-phase Lincoln and Shamira and softly called for the younger Lincoln to join him. He took off his brown cap and stared at its secret compartment, the place where he kept Pan's home, the small brass lamp.

“Psst, Pan,” he whispered, cocking an eye towards the sleeping Guil. “You can come out now.”

A second later the familiar whirlwind spun out of the hat and all one meter of Pan spilled onto the floor. The older Hansum felt a pang of melancholy to see his old friend.

“What do you think, Pan? Is she okay?” the younger Hansum asked.

“Looking out from your hat, I was able to scan her eye,” the gruff but musical voice said. “She still has a low grade infection that needs attending. However, Master, there's something else I should tell you. You see, she's . . .”

Lincoln entered, pulling the curtain tight behind him when he saw Pan.“

She's what, Pan?” Hansum asked.

“I'll tell you when we're alone, Master Hansum. Nothing to worry about.”

The out-of-phase older Lincoln looked at Medeea.

“I think he knows she's preggers,”
he thought to his girlfriend.

“We'll find out soon enough,”
she thought back.

“Do you think I should tell Hansum? Our Hansum?”
But before Medeea could answer, Pan said something that made everybody out of phase nervous.

“Young Masters,” Pan said, “About those we saw at Bella Flora when we were alone with that bureaucratic fool. He and others may be . . .” and he waved his pudgy hand around the room.

Hansum and Lincoln, both sets of them, realized what he meant. The younger Lincoln took a few skulking steps around the room. “Come out, come out wherever you . . .”

“Lincoln,” the younger Hansum chastised. “Not like that.” Then he looked around in the air, searching, and said in a stage whisper. “Hansum, Shamira, Lincoln, Pan from our future. If you're here, there must be a reason. Please. Share it with us. Let's work together.”

The older Hansum looked down at Sideways. “If we show ourselves, it would be easier to help Guil.”

“No,” Sideways answered. “If we bring them into our plans, things could change even more. And the more things change, the more out of hand they can get.”

“I guess they're not here,” the younger Lincoln said to Pan.

“I think they most probably are,” Pan replied. “If I'm with them, I'd say not to expose yourselves . . . themselves. It could complicate matters.”

“But they showed themselves before, or at least I did,” the younger Hansum said.

“I think we can deduce that was not part of their plan, but only a necessity to rescue that fellow. No, I think the percentages are good that they're . . . very close.”

“There, Excellency,” Testa the spy said. “You are both in, as I promised.”

“But we don't have our horses,” Feltrino complained. He and his captain were wearing heavy tunics and breeches, like tradesmen. But they still had the tools of their trade, their swords and knives, wrapped up in burlap over the captain's shoulder.

“After your last entrance and exit from Verona,” the spy commented, “they're on the lookout for you, so they'd notice good horses. And we were lucky to find one of our men on the north gate.”

Feltrino's way of admitting one of his men was right was to scowl harshly, but say nothing.

“Well, let's go scout the lens maker's house. How far . . . on foot?”

Kingsley watched the interactions of the Podesta's soldiers with professional interest. As a sculptor, he was a people-watcher. He found the short, stocky fighting men of the 14th-century fascinating, especially their hard, weathered faces and even harder hands, the two things sculptors say express the most about a person. With two at the house, that left three unsaddling, grooming and tying up the horses, and one around the corner with Ugilino.

“How long can it take to empty their bowels?” Lieutenant Raguso complained.

“By the sound of them awhile ago,” another soldier suggested, “the Podesta could have used them for cannon.” This made all the soldiers and Kingsley laughed again.

“I ‘eard that,” Chinza protested, coming around the corner with Ugilino.

“Help with the horses,” Raguso ordered.

“Oh, merda,” Chinza went on. “The lens maker here just showed me the neat little nest he sleeps in. Nice warm straw and a clean blanket. He says his master gives all his men a clean blanket.”

“My master makes me air it every day and wash it once a month,” Ugilino said proudly.

“Cause the lens maker here's gotta sleep in the house tonight, he says I can use his stall to sleep in,” Chinza announced, and he yawned once again, as if to make sure everyone knew he really was tired.

“Remember our deal,” Ugilino said, “You can sleep there, but I get to ride your horse tomorrow and wear your helmet . . . and carry a pike.”

“He'll not be sleeping in that stall,” the lieutenant said. “It's too far around the building if there's trouble. You'll sleep on the floor of this shop with the rest of us. Can you get the key to the door, Gargoyle?”

“My name's Ugilino.”

“Ugly it is then,” Raguso said. “Get the key and maybe you'll still ride a horse tomorrow. And food. Can your master feed us?”

“Usually there's lots of food and we eat like princes,” Ugilino said. “But with the Signora and her daughter sick, we been eatin' slim. I even ate at the
taverna
tonight.”

“The taverna's the thing,” Chinza said, brightening. “I'll go get food for all of us.”

“I thought you were tired?” the lieutenant shot back.

“Now how long would I sleep with an empty stomach?” Chinza retorted. “I'll take this one with me to help carry.”

“I'll get a basket from the house,” Ugilino said excitedly. “Can we ride the horses there?”

“The horses have travelled enough today,” Raguso answered, taking out a coin from a pouch. “And be quick about everything.”

Still excited, Ugilino jumped to attention like a soldier.

“Si, General,” he shouted, and then took off up the alley. “I'll be right back with the basket and key.”

Kingsley decided to follow Ugilino, so began trotting after him. He should check in at the house anyway.

“That gargoyle is no more a lens maker than I am the Podesta,” he heard the officer laugh.

“You're not the Podesta,” a soldier laughed. “You're a general.”

Easily catching up to Ugilino, Kingsley watched him snap to attention when he came to the two soldiers at the front door. They looked at him, boredom and exhaustion showing in their faces.

“Permission to enter the house?” Ugi asked loudly.

“
Idiota!
You live here. Get in and don't bother us again.”

“No, I must leave again, on a mission for the general. I'm getting a basket to go to the taverna, to get food for all you soldiers.”

That, at least, caused the soldiers to be less cranky.

“And drink too?” one asked.

Ugilino looked at the coin he was given, and made a gargoyle grimace. “Maybe not,” he said. “I'll ask the Master. He's rich now and I know where he keeps . . .” he stopped. “Let me in.”

“Open the door yourself.”

Ugilino opened the door and burst in, Ugilino style. Kingsley followed. There, by the table, were the younger Hansum, Shamira and Lincoln, all leaning in, like they had been conferring in hushed tones. The second set of them, the out-of-phase older teens, were on the stairs, watching.

“Where's the Master?” Ugilino demanded. “I'm on a mission to get food from the tavern for the soldiers, but the general only gave me a
soldi
. I need more.”

“Quiet!” the younger Hansum scolded. “The Master's upstairs. He's finally sleeping.”

“He mustn't be disturbed,” Shamira added. This put an instant frown on Ugilino's face.

“Ugi, it's late and we have to talk,” Lincoln said. “Go to bed in the barn.”

“The general said I couldn't,” answered a clearly frustrated Ugilino. “I've got to get them food, and drink too, or they won't let me ride a horse. And they said I have to sleep in the house.”

Hansum dug into his coin pouch and took out three very shiny silver coins.

“Here. Get lots of good food and drink and spend all of it. Don't keep any of it or give it to that taverna girl you visit. You understand?”

“Those are shiny soldi, Romero,” an amazed and instantly happy Ugi pronounced. “You really must be the Podesta's pet. Oh, I need your basket, Carmella, and the shop key.” Shamira pointed in the corner and he grabbed the wicker basket. Lincoln took the key from his pouch and tossed it to him. The energized Ugilino then ran back to the door, swinging it open wide and running right through Kingsley. “They gotta let me ride a horse in the morning now,” and he was gone.

“I guess you haven't found a place to intercede?” Kingsley asked. The older Hansum shook his head. Then, all the teens looked over as Pan popped back into view.