The Loved and the Lost (7 page)

“Signora Baroni is a History Camp elder?” he asked Medeea.

Again, she shrugged.
“We'll talk of that later. Get back in there.”

Lincoln put a hand to his head and leapt back into Ugi's mind. Ugilino remembered the Father being surprised to see him as he turned. Then the priest smiled. Ugi, and thus Lincoln, watched Father Aaron looking at the different, freshly washed parts of Ugilino, touching his wet hair in a friendly fashion.

“What language was that you and the Signora spoke?” Ugilino asked.

“Oh, Herbalist Baroni and I are old friends,” Arimus replied evasively, but still smiling.

“That's what I . . . like . . . about you Father. You are friends with everybody. You have no enemies,” Ugilino had said, but now he cursed himself. ‘Why did I say ‘like'? I wanted to say ‘love'. Why, why, why?'

That's when Father Aaron had given him the satchel of herbs to take home for his mistress. He told Ugi to tell everybody he would be back in a month. Then he put his arm around Ugilino and walked with him a bit. Lincoln felt the warm feeling Ugilino got from knowing that someone was not afraid to touch his ugly body.

“I'm going on a journey through the mountains, Ugilino,” the Father had said. “Pray for me as I shall pray for you. Remember, in this world where we don't know when God will call us to him, believe in yourself and remember always, God loves you and . . . I love you.”

Lincoln now knew Arimus was telling Ugilino this because he was going to fake his own death, and this would be the last time he could ever talk to the youth. Now that Lincoln could see into the mind of the boy, he felt sorry for him.

Lincoln felt a break in his subject's thoughts and opened his eyes again. Ugilino had finished his business and was standing up. A church bell began to peal in the distance. It rang eight times.

‘I still might be able to get to the funeral,' Ugilino thought as he pulled up his braise and quickly tied the cord. He began to run, remembering Father Arimus asking him, “Pray for me,” and tears began to run from Ugilino's eyes again. ‘I didn't pray for the Father. If he had my prayers added to the others, maybe God would have kept him safe. It's my stupid fault he's dead!'

Lincoln again found it hard to walk and mind-delve simultaneously.

“You don't have to walk when you're out of phase,” Medeea advised him, and she pointed a finger in the air. Immediately, Lincoln's feet rose a few inches off the ground and he began floating close to the weeping Ugilino. Ugilino ran and ran, all the while berating himself for being the murderer of the only person who had acted consistently kind to him. Lincoln even felt Ugilino's toes being stubbed on loose cobblestones and the burning of his lungs from pushing himself to get to the funeral. Finally, Lincoln couldn't take any more of the turmoil which was Ugilino's life. He was just about to disengage the delve when his mind went silent. He blinked and looked at Medeea who, despite speeding along, smiled at him like they were alone on a picnic.

“I disconnected you, sweetie,” the A.I. said. “You did incredibly well for your first time.” She reached up to Lincoln's face. He felt her caress it, and put a hand to his own face. His cheeks were wet with tears.

One hundred paces from Basilica San Zeno, Ugilino spied the funeral procession coming onto the concourse from the direction of the crypts. Ugi was indeed too late and Lincoln watched Ugilino collapse in the roadway and begin weeping. While not in his mind anymore, Lincoln could now empathize with this person he had previously considered as only a joke.

Standing around the steps of San Zeno, Lincoln saw his younger self with the rest of the family, as well as priests and monks. The Master and Guilietta were standing by the bishop, but there was also someone else there, someone the older Lincoln had very sour feelings about.

“Feltrino!”

The younger Lincoln, Hansum and Shamira were standing a few paces away with Father Lurenzano. Feltrino was bowing to the bishop, then the Master — and now Guilietta.

Hansum couldn't help it. When he said Feltrino's name, he actually growled, and this in the middle of saying how he had his anger under control. While one part of his mind seethed with rage, another was frantically exhorting itself to cool down. Getting the History Camp Time Travel Council's permission to become a time traveler and help save Guilietta was at stake.

So, Hansum bit his lip and said nothing more. He watched Feltrino standing haughtily on the steps as the funeral procession finished its walk from the catacombs.

“I'm . . . I'm okay,” Hansum said to Arimus, but when he followed his mentor's gaze and looked down at his own hands, he saw himself gripping and re-gripping them into fists.

“Yes, I see your level of self-control
is certainly something for you to extol.”

Hansum didn't respond to the sarcasm. Instead, he looked straight ahead, trying to see the good things about the scene in front of him. The Master was being seen chatting in public with the bishop of San Zeno. That was good for business. He and Guilietta had just touched hands for the first time. That was a nice memory. He felt under more control.

Forcing a smile, Hansum watched Feltrino step forward and bow to the bishop and then the Master. As he knew he would, Feltrino turned his gaze on Guilietta, who lowered her eyes. The older Hansum watched his younger self step forward to intervene, only to be jerked back by Father Lurenzano. The older Hansum's fists began clenching and unclenching again.

“Relax, my boy, relax,” Arimus said.

Hansum forced a counterfeit smile again. He saw Feltrino and the younger Hansum lock gazes, Feltrino reflexively putting a hand to his sword. Feltrino smirked, as if to say to an unworthy rival, “Watch this,” and he leaned forward and whispered something in Guilietta's ear. Later, Guilietta doggedly refused to tell him what was said, maintaining girls had to bear the rude suggestions men made, and that it was to no good purpose to tell their male relatives. This could only cause yet more trouble. The older Hansum could now satisfy his curiosity. He stepped forward, his hands still clenched, to eavesdrop.

“When death is all around, it is beauty such as yours that whets my appetite for life,” Feltrino whispered.

‘Nothing so bad there,' Hansum thought. His fists relaxed.

Feltrino added, “Maybe later I shall borrow the key to the crypt and you and I can revisit your Father Aaron.” Hansum had to lean in even closer, as the next bit was said even more quietly. “Have you ever made love in a crypt, or on a tomb? I should like to be the shroud covering your pretty body.”

Hansum's hands instantly curled into claws, flying to wrap themselves around Feltrino's neck. “I'LL KILL YOU!” Hansum screamed. “I'LL KILL YOU!”

Hansum felt Arimus's hand on his shoulder.

“Detachment has flown, supplanted by hot prejudice.
An adjournment is in order.”

Arimus snapped his fingers and they site transported away.

In a flash, Hansum felt a quiet, cool breeze blowing through his still-grasping fingers. He looked around and Arimus was still by his side, clutching his shoulder. Hansum looked out and there, spread beneath him, was the medieval city of Verona. Arimus had transported them to the walkway of the city wall. Hansum recognized where they were, just west of the San Zeno city gate. From this vantage point he could see the Basilica of San Zeno in the distance with people, very tiny now, in front of it.

“Yes, that's our younger selves still there,” Arimus said.
“I thought you needed some physical distance to
enhance your objectivity.”

Arimus let go of Hansum's shoulder and reached down, gently touching one of Hansum's wrists. Hansum looked down and found his hands were still like claws.

“Allow a balm of calm to sooth your mind.
It's yours to give.”

Hansum forced his hands to relax and watched as they started shaking.

“Wow. I'm . . . I'm surprised how I'm responding,” Hansum said. He frowned. “Maybe I won't be able to control . . . no. No, I can. I can do this. I must.”

“I believe you can too.”

“Arimus, do I . . .”

“Do you what?”

“Do I save Guil? Or if you won't tell me that, will I at least be able to control myself without blowing up at Feltrino or the Podesta or, or any of the others I know try to sabotage us?”

Arimus laughed.

“You've had enough lessons about time travel
to know I cannot tell you this.
Come, let us take in this beautiful day.
For although faux-death has placed sadness in the many hearts below,
the joyful sound of songbirds still trills to give us a show.
We shall walk and talk?”

Arimus began strolling down the raised walkway. Hansum bit his lip and caught up.

“Okay, I understand you can't tell me exactly what happens in my future. But wouldn't you be curious if you met yourself? Wouldn't you want to know things too?”

“Oh, but I have met my older self often,
and in the beginning I was the same.
But then I've seen too much go awry,
so I don't ask a future self
who, what, when or why.”

Hansum's brow knit in concentration. “So, I haven't blown it yet? I won't be disqualified from my apprenticeship because I'm having a hard time controlling my emotions?”

“Not just yet,” Arimus said with a smile.
“Understanding your feelings is part of the course.
So don't be afraid of feeling worse.”

They were out of sight of San Zeno when Hansum looked around. The place seemed familiar.

“Okay. So, where will you take me now?”

Sometimes we move through time and space,
And sometimes only place.
This time I've saved you some stairs to climb,
so we've only to move through time.”

“Man, usually I understand what you're saying, but . . .” Before Hansum could finish his sentence, the Sands of Time rushed up from the stone walkway, a cylindrical wall obliterating the scene in front of them. Just as fast, the vortex vanished, and high above him, the sun was replaced by the moon.

“It amazes me how the same scene can look
so different under Luna's candle
instead of Sol's beacon.
Bella
,”
Arimus said, admiring the view.

“We're still at the same place,” Hansum observed, “but it's night.” He looked out over the now moon-drenched countryside beyond the city walls. He leaned between two parapets, his eyes widening as he realized why he was here. He looked at Arimus again. “Is this the time I came here with . . .” He heard footsteps and turned to see his younger self and Guilietta strolling along the walkway toward them. They were holding hands, chatting animatedly, and then they'd steal looks at each other and giggle. As they walked by the two time travelers, Guilietta actually walked through Hansum. He felt a shiver as the two shared the same place in the universe again.

The newly-minted couple stopped and looked out over the city-side wall, pointing to the different buildings — Castle Vecchio, San Zeno, the Arena — and Hansum saw how, when he pointed to where their house should be, Guilietta leaned toward him, pressing her arm to his. Then Guilietta turned and moved to the other side of walkway, leaning on the wall between two parapets, gazing out over the countryside and up at the moon. Hansum watched his younger self move behind her, put his hands on her arms and gently, very gently, lean against her back.

“It's a beautiful view,” Guilietta said.

“
Si
, and I have an especially beautiful view,” both Hansums replied. He watched Guilietta smile, as if she now knew for sure she'd won this young man's attention. The older Hansum took a long breath, anticipating what he knew was to happen. A breeze came up and Guilietta shivered. “It's getting cold. We should get going . . .” his younger self said, then . . . the older Hansum watched as the one girl he'd truly loved spun around and kissed him. He watched himself startle in surprise and then rise to the happy task. And then the older Hansum did something that really surprised him. He looked down, so as not to intrude on his former self's intimacy, looking up only fleetingly, with great embarrassment. He felt a sadness in his chest. He looked over at Arimus, who was not looking at the first kisses either, but at his student.

“You're playing with me,” Hansum said. “You're doing this on purpose.”

“For sure on purpose, but not to play.
If it's a Time Traveler you're to be,
this is the only way.”

“I always thought love was just an emotion, part evolutionary imperative, mixed in with cultural conditioning. And because I could do it, chase girls, I did it . . . for fun. But,” Hansum looked up at the embracing couple, their bodies pressed together, “when I met Guilietta, I knew love was real, and that loving could be an expression of that, not just some biological act.” He watched the two stop kissing and look into the other's eyes.