The Crown of Valencia Page 11

  “Damn straight.”

  “Good grief. Where did you learn to swear like that?” I groaned. “This is impossible. It won’t work.”

  “Sure it will.” He reached into one of my packs, pulled out a small folding shovel and snapped the handle into place. “Now, seems to me we have some work to do.” I watched him pace off five paces from the opening, four to the right, then start digging in the loose sand. I pulled six sacks of freshly minted fake coins from the packs. Kalleberg had called in a few debts, and almost overnight we had play money—Castilian coins and Moorish silver dirhems and gold dinars made to look like the few coins pictured in Kalleberg’s books. I dropped two bags into the hole, then Arturo began digging another while I raked the cool sand back into the first one. We stopped once for a candy bar, but kept going until all the bags were buried and the candy wrappers burned, just in case history could change if someone in this century discovered the existence of a Butterfinger. We each tucked a bag of coins into our packs, then Arturo found a crevice back along the path and hid the shovel.

  “Let’s go,” I said, still feeling weak, but my adrenaline had finally kicked in since I didn’t have time to be sick. I had a job to do and my son to protect. Shielding our eyes, we stepped out from the cave. Through my squinting eyes, tears welled up at the sight of forests stretching up the far hillsides, the bright Ebro flowing below us, flowers and meadow grasses all around us rippling in the cool spring breeze. God, this was a beautiful century.

  “Oh my god,” Arturo breathed. “It’s real.” We both slid into Spanish, as we’d planned. English would be for dire emergencies, which I’d warned Arturo I would not tolerate.

  “You thought I just made this all up?”

  He whirled around, drinking it all in. “There’s nothing here.”

  “Nothing but trees, a river, birds, insects, animals, meadows—”

  “Okay, okay. You know what I mean. What’s that?”

  I squinted at the irregular speck on the eastern horizon. “That, Señor Vincent, is Zaragoza.” White-washed city walls surrounded orange tile roofs and the towers of the Aljafería. The sun warmed the top of my head, my legs felt strong and lean, and my brilliant man-child stood at my side. Now that I was back in 1094, Elena’s heart once again beat in unison with mine. To save her life, all I had to do was find her, and find her in time.

  Arturo’s face flushed as reality took hold and spun him around. “This is so cool. I’m here! I’m here!”

  Our packs had no zippers or Velcro, just drawstrings, so we hoped they wouldn’t attract too much attention. I threw mine over my shoulder. “Before we start, let’s get three ground rules straight.”

  “I expected something like this.”

  “First, establish no ties to this time, establish no relationships. It will only hurt more when we say good-bye. Understand me, Arturo Vincent, when I say that after we pull this off, we’re returning to our own time. You’re going to college. Getting a job. Supporting me. Having a life. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “Second, what I say goes, okay? I’m the pilot, you’re the co-pilot. The pilot gets final say without argument from the co-pilot.”

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  “Third, you’ve never seen a sheep running with her lamb before, but that lamb stays right at the ewe’s hip. No matter where she turns or how fast she moves, that lamb is stuck to her side like a training wheel on a bike.”

  Arturo grimaced. “Let me guess. You’re the bike, I’m the training wheel.”

  “If you’d rather, I could be the mama sheep and you could be the cute, cuddly lamb.”

  Eyes twinkling, Arturo shouldered his own pack. “I don’t care. Training wheel or lamb, I’m ready. Let’s go kick some historical butt.”

  Laughing, we started down the hill. Maybe this would turn out okay after all. As long as Arturo remained by my side, I could laugh about anything.

  Chapter Eleven

  We had only taken about ten steps when the ground began to shake. Arturo stopped. “What the heck is that? A train?”

  My pulse quickened as déjà vu hit. “Horses, Arturo, lots of them. The last time I arrived back in time, Elena and her men were riding past. That’s how I met her.”

  We looked at each other as the ground vibrated beneath us and the distant thundering became the sound of hooves pounding the dirt road, closer and closer. Arturo’s eyes twinkled. “Maybe lightning does strike twice in the same place. C’mon!” He scooped up both our knapsacks, flung them over his shoulder, and half-ran, half-slid down the hill.

  Could I be that lucky? I followed Arturo, who’d already disappeared at the bottom of the hill. By the time I reached the bottom and struggled through a stand of bushes, Arturo stood in the middle of the hard-packed road, mouth open, eyes shining, mesmerized by galloping horses headed straight for him. The Moor in the lead whooped and whipped his horse faster. They were not going to slow down even though Arturo stood right in their path.

  “Arturo!” I thrashed through the underbrush lining the last stretch before the road. “Move!” But he just stood there, amazed grin on his shining face while a Moorish army bore down on him.

  I struggled to the edge of the road, taking in flying cloaks, bearded faces, shields, and slashing hooves as the lead rider grinned and aimed his horse straight at my stupefied son.

  Adrenaline surged through me as I raced onto the road, tackled Arturo, and rolled us both into the far ditch just as the air filled with hooves and shouts and flying stones and billowing dust. I pulled my shawl over our heads, but we still coughed and gagged for a few minutes until the earth stopped trembling and the sounds receded.

  When I finally threw back the shawl, a reddish-brown haze hung over the road, but we were alone. I covered my eyes with a dusty, trembling hand, listening to the sound of Arturo’s breathing returning to normal.

  He coughed a few more times, then cleared his throat. “I’ll bet right now you’re a little sorry I’m here.”

  “A little?” I sat up and spat out a mouthful of dirt. “What did you think that was? A virtual army?” I wiped off my mouth, tried to spit again, but fear had sucked up all my saliva.

  Arturo wiped his eyes, leaving two white streaks across a dust-covered face. “I’m sorry It’s just so incredible. I’m actually in the eleventh century.”

  “Not for long,” I snapped as I stood and shook out my skirt. I was pissed at Arturo, pissed at myself for not foreseeing he might have followed me, and pissed at Elena for not being in that pack of riders, or for pounding past without realizing it was me cowering in the ditch.

  Arturo clutched my wrist. “Mom, it won’t happen again. We can’t go back. We have a job to do. I’ll be more careful. Training wheel, that’s me. I swear.”

  “Arturo, this isn’t going to wo—”

  “You folks still in one piece?” The gravely voice came from a plump Christian merchant leading a team of mules hitched to an overloaded wagon. He stopped as we scrambled up out of the ditch.

  “We both swallowed a good share of the road, but we’re fine, thank you.”

  The merchant shook his round head. “I got my team out of the way just in time. Damn that Rafael Mahfouz. He is a terror on the road. ”

  We exchanged introductions, and the kind merchant offered us a ride to Zaragoza. As we all three climbed onto the wagon seat, Arturo asked about Rafael Mahfouz.

  “Having a Christian mama and a Moor for a papa can confuse a person something terrible. He’s a mess. He lives in Zaragoza, but I hear he’s hooked himself up with some young stud who thinks he’s going to be the next caliph, some Moor named Rashid.” The man snapped the reins and the mules leaned into their harnesses. “Mahfouz is a scoundrel, but I’d rather be run off the road by Mahfouz than meet up with that al-Saffah band.”

  “Al-Saffah?” Shedders of blood, if my translation was correct. I tucked my bag under my feet and shifted on the hard wooden plank.

  “Almoravides. Thousands of them
. So good with the damn bow and arrow they can shoot your eye out at one hundred paces.” Both Arturo and I winced. “Red-hooded black bastards been terrorizing the area the last six months.”

  “Terrorizing Christians?”

  “Christians, Moors, even other Almoravides. Makes no difference. Them blood-thirsty buggers hate everyone. They’s so cranky no one’s safe.”

  I smirked. Sounded like me once a month.

  “Say, where are you folks from? I can’t quite place your accent. Never heard it before. I can’t quite make out all your words.”

  Arturo and I exchanged a glance of panic. “We’re from...Tae Kwon Do.” I licked my lips. “It’s a little village up in the Pyrenees. Not many have heard of us.”

  “Can’t say that I have either. Well, you make sense enough for me. Settle back, get comfortable. We have a day ahead of us.”

  Yucca trees rose up from the hills above us, spindly limbs dotted with cauliflower clumps of dusty green. To the north, an abandoned Roman tower rose out of nowhere, its white stone pocked with age. We only stopped a few times to water the mules and relieve ourselves. Once I had to take Arturo by the shoulders. “I am going behind that bush now. You stay here.”

  “I think I should come with you.” His brown eyes were deadly serious.

  “Don’t push it, young man.” But I hid my smile as I turned away.

  We stopped for the night and scooted under the wagon to sleep. Soon the merchant snored like a bear and Arturo made his soft sleeping sounds. I lay on my back, staring up at the rough boards. I was back. She was here, somewhere. Was she still alive? How could I sleep?

  *

  When we passed through the west gate of Zaragoza, my heart opened like a Moor’s well-tended rose. I inhaled the sharp spices, drank in the flowing robes and dark beards, soaked up the sounds of the market and music and lyrical Arabic.

  “Wow,” Arturo breathed into my ear. I needn’t have worried about him, since the city’s strangeness kept him glued to my side. I really had grown a training wheel.

  We got lost a few times, thanks to the merchant’s directions, but finally found the modest home. Flush with the street, the front door opened into a narrow hallway which led us into a bright, airy courtyard. “Good evening, old friends,” I said softly.

  Liana dropped her plate, and Grimaldi stood so quickly his stool clattered to the flagstone. “Kate!” they both cried, and suddenly I was smothered in hugs. Grimaldi finally stepped back, but Liana and I, laughing through our tears, couldn’t let go of each other. Two small children tugged at her skirts.

  “Saints preserve us, who is this young man?” Grimaldi no longer used the faltering Spanish, but spoke fluently.

  Arturo puffed up like a satisfied rooster as I introduced him. Liana kept stroking his cheeks. “What a beautiful man.”

  “He’s only fourteen, Liana.”

  Grimaldi shook his hand as Arturo glared at me. “Don’t forget, Kate. Around here, fourteen is a man.”

  The slender girl at the table stood, long black hair tucked behind her ears. “Tayani,” I murmured. The twelve-year old curtsied politely but could not take her eyes from Arturo. Liana’s son Hazm, who lived in the palace as the crown prince and al-Musta’in’s successor, was visiting, and he allowed me to hug him even though he barely remembered me; and I barely recognized the little boy I’d played with at the Aljafería. Hazm and Arturo hit it off right away, and they soon escaped to the roof, with moon-eyed Tayani right behind them.

  “I’m looking for Luis,” I said after accepting a plate of rice and bread.

  Liana’s forehead wrinkled in concern. “You have been gone such a long time.”

  Grimaldi scratched his silver head. “We have not seen him more than once or twice since our wedding six years ago. Rodrigo returns now and then to negotiate with Walladah.”

  “What of al-Musta’in?” The brother and sister had never gotten along.

  Liana smiled. “Al-Musta’in is leader in name only because Walladah runs the province, which infuriates Rodrigo. She has begun to involve Hazm in her councils, which honors us.” She lowered her kind eyes to hide intense maternal pride.

  “I must find Luis. I suspect he’s with Rodrigo, who should be somewhere around Valencia.” I looked pointedly at Grimaldi, my fellow time traveler from the future, but could say no more while Liana sat with us.

  “My birds,” the pilgrim said with a snap of his fingers, and he disappeared into a side room, quickly returning with a sheet of parchment, ink, pen, and knife. “My pigeons fly to my contacts all over the peninsula—Castile, Galicia, León, Barcelona, Valencia, southern Andaluz. We will pinpoint his location.”

  I smiled happily as Grimaldi began cutting the parchment into narrow strips. I’d come to the right place. We chattered as we wrote notes—some in Latin, some in Hebrew, others in Arabic. Grimaldi raised an eyebrow as I easily composed the Latin notes.

  “I’ve been busy,” I said with a wink.

  Finally we had forty notes, which Grimaldi gathered up into a bowl. Liana touched my arm as Grimaldi and I headed for the roof stairs. “Luis will be whole again now that you’ve returned.” I swallowed, unable to speak. Her skin glowed with an inner peace I had only felt once in my life—those months I’d spent with Elena. “Luis looks the same, acts the same, but that fire in his eyes went out when you left. It will leap to life when he hears you are back.” Liana had just described me. Nodding, I followed Grimaldi up the rickety ladder.

  Hazm, Arturo, and Tayani talked at the far side of the roof. I could hear snatches of Arabic as the two young Moors began teaching Arturo their language. Grimaldi carefully attached a note to the first pigeon.

  Finally alone, I told him everything—Anna’s actions, the timeline, my goal to undo the damage. He attached notes and listened as I paced. Finally I ran out of words and energy, and the notes were ready to fly. Grimaldi joined me on the bench near the bird cages. “This is hard to absorb,” he finally said.

  “I know.”

  “So if the future changes, wiping out all we know, what happens to you, me, Arturo?”

  “Don’t know. We might cease to exist.”

  “Twenty-seven days from now you must make sure that Rodrigo, who has become more ruthless than ever, conquers the Moors and takes Valencia. All you know is that before he’s supposed to do this, he kills Luis, wanders away and is not heard from again.” I nodded, waiting. Finally Grimaldi raised his silver head. “We need Luis.”

  “We?” I asked.

  He nodded. “All these years in this century, I have kept a low profile because I didn’t want to alter history. No one has the right to do what Anna has done.” I squeezed his cold hand. “But I must be very discreet.” I didn’t understand until he nodded toward the laughing Hazm. “I have been more of a father to him than al-Musta’in. What you propose we do is effectively weaken his world so Alfonso and the others can conquer him.”

  “I struggle with this as well.”

  “If your efforts to overthrow the current Valencian emir, Ibn Jehaf, and put Rodrigo on the throne are traced back to Hazm in any way, his life will be in great danger.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t consider how awkward this might be for you.” I looked toward the birds.

  “Helping you find Luis is not a problem, but should Anna discover you’re here, if your goals should become known, I’ll only be able to help you from afar. Kate, what you propose is not only difficult, it’s extremely dangerous. Know that an immense amount of wealth and power is at stake here.”

  Not to mention the course of the entire next millennium.

  “The Valencians are tired and starving,” Grimaldi said. “In al-Rashid the people see a way to reestablish power in all of al-Andaluz.”

  I watched Arturo, now laughing so hard he held his sides. “They’re up to something.”

  “Of course. Aren’t they always at that age?”

  Nodding, I reached for my knapsack and pulled out a canvas bag. “What I’m abou
t to show you cannot be shared with anyone, not even Liana.”

  Grimaldi winced. “She and I keep no secrets, except the obvious one.”

  I shook my head. “No, this is for you alone.”

  He exhaled slowly. “Okay, for me alone.” I handed him the bag, which he untied and opened. He gasped, then chuckled deeply as he pulled out a New York Times and a one pound bag of peanut M&Ms, the two things he missed most from his own century. He slid them back in before anyone could notice, grinning broadly. “I’m not a selfish man, but these are for me alone.”

  A high-pitched wail drifted across the rooftop. Call to prayer. That more than anything brought memories of my time in Zaragoza flooding back, memories so vivid that my longing for Elena beat a steady pulse inside my skull. I had to find her. When I did, I could not touch her or kiss her or in any way rekindle our relationship, since my stay was only temporary. But just to look into her eyes again, to hear her voice…that was all I needed.

  *

  Grimaldi released the birds the next morning, and we waited. Arturo showed Hazm a few kicks, Tayani tried to kiss Arturo in the back hallway, which I heard about from Liana, and Hazm showed Arturo a bit of Moorish swordplay, which shot my anxiety up into the red zone.

  “Arturo, I think a dagger is a better weapon for you. Let’s go to the bazaar.”

  “Mom, I was just horsing around with Hazm to be polite. I don’t need a weapon,” he insisted as he and Hazm trailed behind me out the house and down the narrow street. “My body is my weapon.”

  “We get separated, you’re out of food. Will Tae Kwon Do kill, skin, and gut a rabbit?”

  Arturo snorted as he stepped aside to avoid a pack of kids racing past the stalls. “I can’t kill a rabbit and neither can you.”

  “I could teach you,” Hazm offered. “My aim with a bow and arrow is so good I am thinking of going to fight with al-Rashid. Valencia must be defended.”

  “Hazm—” I stopped. Telling him he was too young would only produce teenage indignation. “Hazm, Zaragoza needs you here. Its crown prince should not risk his life.” The bazaar had overflowed the square into side streets, merchants selling from wagons, hand carts, or off rush mats on the stone street.