ciciandaquill

[ciciandaquill]

Chapter 1

The blaring sound of the alarm to warn citizens of the upcoming threat suddenly become so insignificant to me. All I could think about is the house, my little cottage home, as I run towards it. It’s the only thing I have left of him. Up above, the German aircraft swarm like insects in the sky, about to unleash bombs from its carriers. My anxiety increases as I hasten, silently praying that my humble home will be spared.

“Emma!” His voice is urgent and loud, as I hear him follow me. “Emma stop!”

“No!” I said, looking over my shoulder ever so slightly and ran as fast as I can.

My legs betrayed me as I falter, falling on my knees breathless. I noticed something fell from my pocket as I kneel; its the necklace my father gave to me before his passing. I held it in my hand and hold it tight. When I look up, my house appears to be just a few meters away when suddenly, something fell from the sky towards it. The pendant begins to feel warm in my hands as he ran towards me. As soon as the bomb hits the roof, the explosion pushed me backward and everything went black. Humans have always been a slave to gravity, hence the feeling of weightlessness feels so unfamiliar. It’s as if time itself stopped and slowed down for me at the same time, even just for a little while. When my body hits the ground, my consciousness succumbs to darkness. A flash of events from my past begins to flood my eyes. Beginning from my formative years down to the recent events. My humble abode once boasts a happy family inside, now crumbling in clouds of dust and wood along with the destroyed relationships its very walls have witnessed. A once place of haven for me and him until it isn't anymore. I woke up with tears rolling down my temples. Sometimes, despite pushing the painful memories away, it will eventually seep even in the tiniest of crack. As I open my eyes, tears began to fell. It’s been a while yet, the mere thought of him feels as though someone squeezes my heart in pain. Time has yet to help me with my agony. I almost drown myself in self-pity and sorrow when I suddenly hear the sound of a door opening. Afterward, a figure of a woman came into view, hovering me with concern delicately painting her pale face. Realizing I have finally awakened, she breaks into a smile.

“Hello, I’m so relieved to see you awake at last.” She began. She took a stool and place it next to the bed I’m laying on, and sat upon it. “My name is Elizabeth Grey. I have found you by the forest not far from my home the other night.” There’s something about her that appears different. When I didn't respond, she continued. “Can you tell me your name, Mistress?”

Her eyes, the darkest of brown I have ever seen, survey my face as she waits for a reply. Seeing more of her now, noticing the details of her clothing, posture, and her manner of speaking puzzles me. Despite my observation, I decided to play along and try my hardest to show gratitude to my savior. “E-Emma Sutton..” I said, having difficulty speaking as if I have been silent for a while. “W-where am I?” I asked as I pushed myself up from the bed.

She helped me set my pillow in my back for my comfort before smiling. “York, Mistress Sutton.”

It is then I suddenly hear the frantic noises outside. However, the noises I hear only cemented what I fear. Looking on my left side, a small window, and what I saw sends panic in my heart. I have done it, whatever father has done in the past, I have done it. Only that I’m not sure how it is even possible. “I will arrange for your bath, Mistress,” Elizabeth said as she stands up.

Before she could leave the room, I called on her. “Thank you for your kindness, Lady Grey. I’m indebted to you.”

Her smile is sweet and wide, kindness is oozing out of her smile. “It’s only Mistress Grey. I’m only a merchant’s wife.” With that, she smiled once again and take her to leave. Upon closing the door, I slowly try to get off the bed and noticed how filthy I am. My whole body is covered with dirt and perhaps smoke as well as my hair smells like one. No wonder why she must have thought I badly need a bath. Despite the filth, I see no injury or cuts in my body, except for a little pain around my back. Realizing the pain is manageable, I walk towards the window and see the peculiarity or rather the truth I initially thought not possible— Yesterday, I was in York April 29, 1942, but I have gone back sometime around the 15th Century and I don't know how or why. Having Constantine around to teach me since I was young, he has taught me of the most important events in history that have proven useful at the moment. Base on the banner I see from the outside, it bears the white rose of York. There are only 3 York Kings in history: Edward IV; Edward V; and Richard III. Knowing which one would be a little complicated. I might have to go outside to determine. When Elizabeth came back, she ushered me to my bath and helped me get into it. I feel relaxed upon submerging myself in the warm water, however, as soon as I lean back I felt a sharp pain around my shoulder and back. I try to look over and see the reason for it only to see a massive discoloration around my shoulder and I can only suspect that the bruising is the reason why I’m experiencing back pain. After washing up, one of Elizabeth’s help gave me a hand getting out of the medieval bath and dress me appropriately. Thankfully, corsets are not of this century but I have completely forgotten about the bodice. Constantine has always been more interested in Italian history especially in the renaissance period or perhaps it has been a shared interest between the two of us that I have forgotten about the minute details of this century outside of Italy. I was unable to suppress a groan of pain when Winnifred is helping me lace my bodice. “Forgive me, Mistress!”

I try my best to smile at her to ease her. “It’s quite alright.”

“What is going on?” Elizabeth said, suddenly coming inside the room. She went inside and walk towards my back. I was about to say that it’s nothing, however, she sweeps my hair from my back to my shoulder and traces the bruises. I gasp in pain as she did so. “Forgive me. This is a terrible bruise. I wonder how you got it.”

As Winnifred continues to help me get dressed, I can only recall the explosion pushing me away. I don't remember anything else. However, I suddenly remembered something rather peculiar during the explosion. I remember thinking about a portrait of a woman whom I have seen in different museums but has appeared to be the subject of paintings about beauty. Despite my fondness for paintings and sculptures, the manner of which I remember the painting is somehow enthralling. As the explosion pushed me, the very thought of the painting itself is pulling me in and I went in like a moth to a flame.

After joining her to tea, is when I later learned that I’m currently living in King Edward IV on his second reign. One thing I remember from my history lessons is that the second reign has brought about peace between the warring clans of England, at least until his death in 7 years after ruling for 13 years.

“Do you remember the events before your loss of consciousness?” Miss Grey said as she sets her teacup down the table.

Sipping mine, I try my best to conjure and keep my story more believable. When I set the teacup down the table as well, I was ready. “My father and I live in the outskirts of York when he decided he wishes to travel to Florence to visit my mother’s relatives.” I set the teacup down on the table and place my hands conveniently on my lap. “While we’re on our way, a group of men robbing stopped us only to rob us of our things. My father willed me to go as he tries to protect me from the men but I ended up being beaten by some of the men thinking I carry some things of value.” Looking down, though feeling awful with my lie, I fidget my hands as I go on. “And then when I wake up, I’m here.”

I heard her gasp as she hears me. “Oh dear, what a dreadful experience! However, when we found you, we could not locate anyone else but you.”

I look up at her with a sullen look. “I fear what they have done to my poor father.”

She extends her hand to mine, consoling me. “Dear, whatever you need, you only need to ask.” She said.

“How kind of you, Mistress,” I said, smiling bitterly at her.

Upon learning of my prior plans to travel to Florence, Elizabeth was willing to let me travel with them to Florence. I still feel guilty lying to her but I know that if I tell her the truth, I would only be accused of witchcraft. Suddenly, I remember what my father did when he traveled in the late 15th century. He has mentioned his lies he had to come up to blend in with the time. Despite wanting to see her for the first time, I have never thought I’d be doing the same thing as my father once did. The journey for la Bella madonna. I have not taken into account how lucky I was to have met Elizabeth who coincidentally will travel from York to Venice. They have given me a ride in their coach until I made it to Florence. Standing there by the gates of the city, I look up at the Dome of Florence in its regal stance, holding a promise and hope for me.

[ciciandaquill]

Prologue

There is something about edifices that make it look so enigmatic. It could be a newly built or old structure for commercial purposes, could be a residential or perhaps a symbol of religion, power, and culture. As I stand by the cupola’s bell tower, I begin to feel a sense of awe and beauty as I overlook Florence up from above. Granted I feel a bit out of air due to the 400 plus steps I have to go through, it was all worth it.

“I cannot begin to describe how amazing I feel seeing this magnificent view!” I said leaning on the banister as I catch my breath.

Constantine stands next to me, unfazed by the steps we had to climb, as he solemnly looks at the view as if remembering something. “Magnificent indeed.” He quietly leans on the banister as he looks over the whole of Florence.

My eyes can hardly fathom how beautiful everything my eyes set upon on. “You can see everything from up here!” I said gleefully.

I felt his eyes on me as he smiles then switch back to the view. “Believe it or not, this view didn't change much for the last few hundred years.”

I scoff, not quite believing him despite his sincere manner of speaking. “How would you know? You’re only 40 years old!” Heavily emphasizing his age; though he may not look like it; to tease him.

He chuckles at my comment, unperturbed. “I may not have lived through the years to see it change right before my eyes, but history dictates how little things changed in this fine city. I like it that way. Florence has preserved its grand culture and art perfect for the later generations to see.”

His answer has completely dissipated all humor left in me, sensing his pensive mood. He’s never been entirely humorous but when it comes to Florence, he’s even more so. I know Constantine has always been a serious person but something tells me that this man has been through so many things that made him this way. He’s always been good at hiding his emotions. I suddenly wonder if that ever helps him being a professor.

“How short a while all mortal joys endure, But not so soon doth memory pass away.”

I’d ask him what it was or if he’s made it but he looks; so deep in thought perhaps from a memory prevents me from doing so. All I could hope for is that it’s a good memory he could reminisce.

[ciciandaquill]

The Secret Muse

The following story is created purely out of fiction. Real-life figures may appear, the incidents, situations and dialogues concerning those persons are fictional. Any resemblance to an actual persons, living or dead, events and locales is coincidental.