The Loved and the Lost (8 page)

“We'd better get going,” the younger Hansum said. “Your father is going to wonder,” and the older and wiser Hansum watched the two walk hand in hand into the darkness.

“You bastard,” he said very softly to Arimus. “Where now?” Arimus motioned toward the two, now a way down the wall. “But that's when . . . No. We don't have to . . .” Arimus raised his eyebrows, and then motioned again to follow them.

Hansum began walking slowly behind the couple, letting the distance between them grow. They were now visible only as silhouettes in the moonlight. He heard them giggling and saw them stop to kiss and pet. He wouldn't let himself be hurried by Arimus, insisting on keeping a discreet distance.

“I must remind you,
We cannot be detected.”

“We're close enough,” Hansum insisted. That's when they lost sight of them and Hansum knew they had come to the empty guard room. Hansum stopped.

“It's all right to see this tenderness.”

“It's not necessary,” Hansum said somewhat sternly, but Arimus just raised a finger, rotated it once in the air and they were instantly site transported in front of the open garderoom door. Hansum was positioned so he could not help but see inside. His eyes widened, filled with tears and he pulled himself away and stood, back against the cold brick wall of the guardhouse. “I . . . I've had enough,” he said to Arimus.

“Perhaps one more event, to complete the test.
And when that's done, successful or not,
I'll let you rest.”

And with that, Arimus took hold of Hansum's arm. He felt a slight tremble as the huge golden Sands of Time streaked up from the stone floor. Hansum closed his eyes and felt the walkway disappear under his feet as the roar of the vortex filled his ears.

Quiet. Birds chirping. Then the familiar distant sound of the busy market. Hansum felt Arimus let go of his sleeve and opened his eyes. They were standing on a quiet Verona street just off the Grande Urbe market. There was only one person visible, a man standing about twenty paces away with his back to them. He was peering around the corner of a building. Beside him was a common wagon, like a farmer from the market would use. There were two horses harnessed to it. A large wagon horse and a slighter, leaner horse. Hansum froze. Those animals looked familiar. He saw the sword at the person's waist.

“Steady my boy, don't be queasy.
Nobody said this would be easy.”

“Feltrino!” Hansum hissed.

Lincoln looked down at Ugilino weeping on the ground, despondent about missing Father Aaron's funeral. Having mind-delved Ugi, Lincoln truly knew how badly the fellow was hurting. He looked at a chipper Medeea.

“It's not that I don't feel sorry for the poor creature,”
she said. “
I maintain a professional detachment from my subjects, a skill that you must acquire.”

The crowd for Father Aaron's funeral began to dispurse and Lincoln watched his younger self, along with the rest of his Verona family, begin walking home. They would have to pass right by. Ugilino made to scuttle away, but then remained put, sitting dejectedly in their path.

“
Ugi thinks the Master is going to scream at him,”
Medeea told Lincoln.

The family stopped when they got to Ugilino and Lincoln saw how his younger self, Shamira and Hansum were holding onto each other for dear life.

“We were confused and frightened,” he told Medeea. “We didn't know if this was for real or what. Man, look at us. We're really freaked. I hardly remember stopping for Ugi.”

Master della Cappa was standing over a visibly shaking Ugilino. Finally Ugi crawled over to the big man and lay prostrate at his feet, embracing one of his master's boots. Agistino reached down, his hand clenched in a fist. As it reached Ugilino's head, he hesitated, and then opened it up. He patted the prone youth. Ugilino raised his head, eyes full of tears.

“I got drunk, Master. I'm so sad.”

“Get up,” Agistino commanded, his stony face impossible to read. Ugilino rose, but lowered his eyes. “You saw where my drinking brought the family, Ugi,” the Master said. Ugilino looked up at the Master. “You do not want to go down that path.” He paused. “Come. Let us go to our home and pray for our benefactor. All of us.”

The smallest of smiles came to Ugilino's face and the group continued to trudge home.

“Why did God take Father Aaron?” Ugi asked.

“I don't know,” Agistino replied. “I guess it's as the priests say. It's a mystery.”

“It's not a mystery,” the Signora said out loud. “Archangel Michael said it's a test for us. Especially the orphans.”

“That Archangel can kiss my. . .” Agistino began angrily, and then he stopped. They were almost out of earshot, but Lincoln heard the Master add, “Maybe he's right.”

“So, how did you enjoy your first serious mind-delving?”
Medeea asked Lincoln.

“I don't know if the word enjoy is the right way to describe it.”

“You did fabulously,”
Medeea assured him.
“I'm so proud of my new lov. . . lovely student. So, shall we follow Ugi and, after you've had a wee rest, try him again?”

“Honestly? I learned a lot from being in his head, but I don't know if I can take any . . .”

Medeea put up a hand for silence.
“I'm getting a message from Arimus. He's moving Hansum a bit forward in time and wants us to stay in the same day as them. He's sending a vortex for us and we can continue to mind-delve there. Ready?”

“I guess,” Lincoln said.

“Hey,”
Medeea said brightly.
“We can check on Ugi there.”

“I told you . . .” Lincoln started, but Medeea was already throwing her arms and legs around Lincoln. He felt himself toppling backwards. He would have hit the cobblestones, but the ground disappeared and a rush of the Sands of Time zoomed up. Like two people falling through the sky without a parachute, Medeea and Lincoln tumbled backwards in slow summersaults, Lincoln's arms pinioned at his sides by the insubstantial Medeea.

“Yippee!”
she shouted like a cowgirl, and then she broke out into uncontrolled giggles.

Lincoln felt himself stop abruptly. He was now lying on his back, his backside smarting. Medeea was on top of him, all cuddled up. She raised her head and looked at him.

“I thought you knew how to land on your feet, but this is more fun.”

“You, you caught me by surprise,” he said. “Ow, my butt.” Then he looked around and saw he was in an alley he recognized. “Hey, we're just down the street by the Master's house. Who are they?” There were two men standing with their backs to them, peering around the corner towards the della Cappa house. Lincoln worked his way onto an elbow and stared. “Is that . . .” and then one of them pulled back into the alley and spoke.

“That girl has swift legs,” Feltrino Gonzaga said, and he pulled on his companion's ear hard, yanking him back into the alley. It was Ugilino.
“Andiamo!”
Feltrino ordered, and the two quickly got on a wagon with two horses. “We'll get ahead of her at Piazza Bra,” Feltrino said, snapping the reins. “You'll run and snatch the looker from her.” Then they were out of earshot.

“Holy jumpin',” Lincoln said. “This is when Feltrino kidnapped Guilietta and stole a looker.” Then he looked doubly shocked. “Jeepers. We didn't know Ugilino helped him. He came back to the house like nothin' happened.”

“Well, do you want to see what else went on or just lie here with me on top of you?”
She looked like she could agree to either proposition.

“But they're so far ahead,” Lincoln said. Medeea looked up with a mischievous grin and pointed a finger. “Oh, you're going to transport us?” he said.

“Yes,”
she said roguishly.
“But in a different way. I call it . . . the magic carpet, without the carpet.”

“Do I have a choi . . .” Medeea spun her finger once and zip, still lying prone, they rose off the ground and streaked down the alley at a blurring speed, as if on a magic carpet.

After some dizzying twists and turns, even though they could go through objects and people without trouble, they finally came to a screeching halt in Piazza Bra. There was Ugilino, already out of the wagon and jumping up and down among a throng of shoulder-to-shoulder people, trying to get a glimpse of Guilietta in the crowd. Lincoln managed to stagger to his feet and look around. Medeea just levitated, fairy-like, landing on her feet and then snapped her fingers like maracas.

“Ole! The magic carpet.”

“There she is,” Ugilino said to himself and took off running through the crowd.

“Here we go again,”
Medeea thought. Lincoln lifted a few inches off the ground, thankfully standing this time, and started to zip alongside Ugilino. Ugi's face was at once frantic, scared and determined. He bounded forward, pushing people out of the way. Lincoln craned his neck to catch a glimpse of Guilietta. Medeea read his thoughts, smiled and levitated them higher. There was Guilietta, weaving in and out through the crowd, smiling and apologizing as she bumped into people. And there was the looker, slung over her shoulder in its fancy leather case. She thought she was bringing it to the palace, supposedly because of a note from Hansum, but really the note was from Feltrino and this was a trap.

When they entered the Urbe Market, Guilietta was only about 20 paces in front of Ugi. The crowd became so thick that everything came to a halt.

“It's the Bishop with a relic of San Zeno,” Lincoln heard a man in the crowd say. Soldiers and monks had formed a barrier for a religious procession to make its way through public space, blocking further progress towards the palace. He saw Guilietta work her way to the front of the crowd, but then stop while the procession passed. Meanwhile, right next to Lincoln, Ugilino's panicky eyes darted about. He was trying to figure something out. Lincoln levitated down and stared hard at him.

“How could you do this?” he asked an unhearing Ugilino. “You grew up with her. She's your family. If I find out it was you that hurt her . . .” Then he saw that, although Ugilino looked determined, there was also something else on his face.

“Connect me to him,” Lincoln said to Medeea. Medeea smiled and then blinked at Lincoln. The teen felt Ugilino's mind drop into his, again with the same tumult of pain, confusion and even the physical feeling of being out of breath. “Filter out everything but his linear thoughts,” Lincoln demanded brusquely.

Medeeas eyebrows went up in mock surprise. “
Yes . . . Master,”
she replied.
“I like a man who can give orders.”

“Just do it . . . please.”

‘Oh, dear baby Jesus,'
Ugilino was thinking,
‘I don't like this at all. Merda, why did I agree to help? Feltrino better take me to Mantua as his squire when I get the looker. I hope Guilietta doesn't see me. C'mon you stupid, ugly bastardo! Just sneak up and yank the case and run.'

Ugilino took a dirty blanket he was carrying and draped it over his head. He began pushing and sneaking through the crowd, each step bringing him closer to Guilietta. Soon he was only a few feet away. The priests holding the wood and leather trunk with religious relics were just passing Guil.

“The bones of San Zeno,” a priest cried, “The bones of San Zeno,” and the crowd cheered loudly.

‘NOW, YOU UGLY! GRAB IT NOW!'
Lincoln heard Ugilino think.

He snatched the looker case and pulled as hard as he could. Lincoln experienced Ugilino feeling Guilietta trying to hold on to the case's strap, pulling back and starting to scream. The scream turned into a shriek as she was yanked off her feet, forcing her to let go as she hit the ground. Lincoln stayed by Guilietta, watching Ugilino as he began to run. He saw him punch a man in the throat and stomp on another's foot. Guilietta continued shouting as she got to her feet and began chasing him, Lincoln and Medeea following close by.

‘Don't follow me, Guil. Sweet baby Jesus, don't let her follow me.'
Lincoln heard Ugi think as he ran.

Guilietta was now at the edge of the crowd and broke into an open run.

“Please, Guilietta, please don't,” Lincoln urged, speaking close to her ear. He turned to Medeea. “Can't we stop her? If we stop her, won't that action cascade down to where . . .”

“Arimus tried to intervene at different places,”
Medeea replied, still calm.
“We A.I.s ran many simulations in an effort to help, including this, but it didn't work.”

“I'm sorry, Guil,” Lincoln whispered to the running girl.

Ugilino disappeared around a corner and Guilietta followed.

“Feltrino!” Hansum hissed. Seeing the same horses he remembered from his fight at the river, Hansum realized this must be when Feltrino kidnapped Guilietta. He looked over at Arimus. “You're making me watch
this
now? After all I've seen?”

“Do you wish to leave? The History Camp Time Travel Council
may grant an extension for your testing or they may not.
I cannot guarantee it.”

“I suppose I can . . .” Hansum stopped when Ugilino came steaming around the corner, right into Feltrino's arms.

“What the . . .” Hansum blurted.

“Guilietta's chasing me,” Ugilino gasped.

“Yes, I saw her,” Feltrino smiled. “Stand back here.”

And then everything seemed to move in slow motion for Hansum. Ugilino stepped behind Feltrino. Feltrino, still smiling, brought back his arm and clenched his fist. Then, even more slowly, Guilietta appeared from around the edge of the building. She was running, her hands grasping the fabric of her dress, lifting it from the ground. Her expression, a mix of determination and anger, couldn't hide her inherent beauty. And then . . .

“Guilietta! NO!” Hansum screamed.