FicWad

Chapter 3: A Grave Misunderstanding

I could smell him before I saw him. He smelled of hard work, and…well, man. The smell was vaguely comforting, and I thought of my brother.

Alex, I needed to call him, I hadn't talked to him in a few weeks. I hoped everything was going well for him.

I realized I was lying down, and I felt like someone was very close to my face.

I opened my eyes to see a very stern faced man staring at me. His face was probably only a foot away from mine. I felt my face flash bright red, and gasped, not sure how the best way to move would be, as his arms were right on either side of mine. His eyebrows were knit together and then he turned and said something to Lillian who was nibbling on her lower lip. He was speaking too fast for me to understand what he was saying, except, "…she's…Lillian." His voice was deeper than I was expecting.

Lillian said, slowly, probably so I could understand, "Good! I was so worried."

There was a quiver of a smile on his lips and then it was gone.

He sat back on his knees. It was then that I got a good look at him. His hair was an uncontrollable mass about an inch long and black as coal. He had defined eye-brows over dark eyes. He said something to Lillian and smiled. He had a very nice smile that lit up his face, and made him more handsome than he perhaps was otherwise.

She pursed her lips at him, and shook her finger, saying something I couldn't follow.

He stood up, and brushed off his unusual pants. He was dressed entirely in black and green with what looked like paint splatters of gold.

I realized I was still lying on the ground. Not sure what to do next, I went to stand up. He bent over and grabbed my arm and hoisted me up until I was standing mainly by his effort and not by my own. He was about the same height I was, which was quite tall for that time.

I extracted my arm from his grasp as soon as I was on my feet, not sure how I should have reacted, but being used to doing things on my own, I found his help rather condescending. He looked at me with an expression I couldn't read, somewhere between surprise and pleasure.

"What is your name?" I asked carefully, looking to Lillian for any corrections, she nodded.

The man who had watched the interchange with interest, made a stiff, and sarcastic bow, "Ananias, acrobat, and ask I your name?"

I was surprised at how well I understood him, and I blushed at his sarcasm. I usually did blush at stupid things like that. I don't know why, but I've always blushed easily. But before I could respond to his question Lillian, who had been watching him attentively, answered for me, "her name does not concern you."

"Elene," I interjected, frustrated that I wasn't considered to have the ability to speak for myself. Lillian shot me a look that told me I shouldn't have opened my mouth.

"Elene…" he trailed off, waiting, his eyes never leaving my face.

"Chicago," I answered, raising my chin haughtily, who was this acrobat? Why was he so sarcastic?

He raised his not unattractive eye brows and partially nodded, "Shay-ka-go." He turned to
Lillian and said something I couldn't understand, except for, "…talk…"

I looked at Lillian for a translation and she was scowling and shaking her head. I felt totally and utterly useless.

He left as suddenly as he had appeared, leaving without a word and with only a slight bow. I turned to Lillian as soon as I thought he was out of hearing.

"What was that?" I asked.

She merely sighed and shook her head, watching as his flamboyant back disappear through the garden.

*

The acrobat was soon forgotten as Lillian's patience with my rumpled and somewhat smelly clothes expired. Apparently someone else had lost patience with my attire, too, because there was a note and a mess of fabric strewn about my room. Lillian handed the note to me, shaking her head and saying, "I don't read."

I stared at the scrap, "A new dress, choose thy taste."

Lillian watched my face, her eyebrows knit together, "you read," She didn't ask but more said it more as a statement of fact. I responded with a nod all the same, I had read what few documents I could find on the internet in Middle English that I could find, including Robin Hood (the original one) and Beowulf. Middle English was not difficult to read, it resembled our own language surprisingly well, it just took a while, for the brain to be able to adjust to it.

I looked at the array of fabrics before me, and blew a stray bang out of my face.

She pointed to her own gown and said, "new dress?"

I nodded. She smiled and sighed, with what I imagine was relief.

Lillian had I believe more fun in picking out fabric than I did. She darted from here to there with two or three different colors over her arm and she would hold one up to another and then carry them over to the window to see how light showed on them. I remembered what it was like to go shopping with my mother and she would become exasperated with my premature boredom. I had never liked to walk for hours between shirts and pants until they all started to look like the same thing over and over again. I did look for a few minutes at what was offered. I picked out a deep maroon satin and light coppery netting that set off the red very nicely. Lillian had nodded her agreement between examinations of deep green and dark blue velvet.

I folded up the two pieces of fabric and put them on top of the growing pile that was collecting on top of the bed.

"I'm going to look around," I told her, and she mumbled something that I didn't catch.

I wandered through hallways and down stairs and up stairs again until I had myself thoroughly lost. I opened the nearest door to me only wide enough that I might be able to stick my head in but then pull it out before it was seen. It was more of a hallway really. It was lined with shelves that seemed mainly empty. Not surprisingly, the printing press wouldn't be invented for another two hundred years.

I opened the door a little further. A grey head looked up as I did so, but before I could make quite sure who it was, I ducked back into the hallway.

"Hallo there!"

I stopped as the door opened up behind me, "Excuse me," I said turning around to face him, "I didn't mean to disturb you."

The man shook his head, "You didn't."

It was the man who had asked me all the questions that I didn't understand when I had first come here. He didn't take his eyes off of me, but more stared at me intensely with his hooded brown eyes.

I shied away from his penetrating glance.

He blinked, "come in, please." He waved his hand for me to follow him back into the library.

I didn't have an excuse. He sat down in his former seat and clearing away what he had been looking at, he indicated that I should sit also.

I sat down timidly, not without the memory of my last day at work.

"You know the acrobat, I think." He spoke more slowly this time then he had on the former meeting, and I understood more now.

While he hadn't exactly asked it as a question, I could tell he was looking for a response, "a little."

He nodded, "You have just joined his theatrics, then?" He was still studying my face with an intensity that made me shift in my seat.

"Just joined?" I repeated, "No, no, I…didn't know him before…I came."

His eyebrows knit, "How did you come?"

"I know not," I said carefully, remembering the first time I tried to say "I don't know" to Lillian.

"You know not?" he said leaning forward carefully, "You are sure?"

I sank back as he leaned toward me, his gaze was so blatant, I didn't know how to respond to it.

He narrowed his eyes, "what is it you want with us?"

"I don't know what I'm doing here, alright? I don't know how I got here, why I'm here I don't know anything except that I was on my way to Uncle Mikes and now I'm here!" I stopped myself abruptly, realizing I had been speaking in modern English.

He sat back in his chair, his glance moving abruptly from my face to the shelves around me.

"Do you know who I am?"

I shrugged, not knowing what else to do.

"You look afraid."

I shook my head again, I was afraid, but I didn't want to admit it.

"Tell me your name," he said again, avoiding looking at my face again.

"Elene," I said, then remembering, "of Chicago."

"Chicago? Is this north?"

"West," I corrected.

"I know all that is west to the cliffs, I know all that is east to the Mountains, and there is no place called Chicago." He reached up to grab a chain that hung around his neck, pulling it out, I saw a cross, highly polished. This he clenched in his fist.

He seemed to drag his eyes back to my face, and even then he would not look me in the eyes again.

"You will not find any books here to interest your kind, I'm sure, but the library is open to you."

I was startled by his words. Grateful, but startled.

He stood up and left me before I could ask him.

What did he mean, my kind? What kind was that? What was that supposed to mean? Was it some kind of code I was supposed to know?

My mind was buzzing with questions as I stood up to leave, and nearly ran into the acrobat.

"Well, well," he said with a bit of a half-smile on his face, "Hello there,…better…I…no…spells."

He spoke way too fast for me to understand everything he said.

"Hello," I said stepping to pass him.

"…careful…you…" he said with a wink, "upset…duke…not…do."

"I don't understand you," I said finally, "too fast!"

He cocked his head with a smile that made his eyes twinkle, and I think he knew it, "Excuse me," he said with exaggerated slowness, "I'll try to make it easier for you. Better?"

I couldn't help but smile, even though it was frustrating for him to treat me like an imbecile.
His humor lightened the atmosphere.

"What did you say?" I said.

"I be careful if I you," that's all he said seeming not to want to finish.

"Why?"

"So you read?" he said as he wandered to the mostly empty bookshelves, his hands behind his back.

I wasn't going to be baited so easily, "Why should I be careful?"

He persisted, "I do not, much too much travel, much too much to do."

Why couldn't I remember his name?! "Why must I be careful?"

"No interest, too hard."

I couldn't take it anymore, I took his shoulder and tried to turn him to face me, but he kept his stance with more strength then I would have given him credit for, "WHY must I be careful?"

He looked over his shoulder at me, studying my face for a moment. Then he turned around and crossed his arms over his chest, "Gossip, dangerous thing, you agree?"

I rolled my eyes, and shook my head, "Forget it," I said in modern English, I had no time for his riddles.

He narrowed his dark eyes.

"You know where I from?" he said suddenly, catching me as I turned to go.

I turned on my heel, exasperated with him and wanting him to see it in my answer.

"I not from," he waved his hand to indicate all around us, "England. Many witches in Chicago?"

That was a weird thing to say, "No, no witches."

He looked sidelong at me, squinting his eye which gave him a funny look of skepticism. I laughed involuntarily, and caught myself before the embarrassing inhale at the end of my silent exhale.

"Do you know who you just talk to?" he asked.

"No," I said, looking at the door afraid the grey-haired man might come back in at any moment.

"Charles, Duke of Clarence, and he believe you belong to me."

"What?"

"He be-"

"I heard what you said, what do you mean?"

"He believe you part of my act."

"Part of your act?"

"Si, yes."

"He thinks I'm a jester?"

"I know not that word."

I shook my head, remembering that the term didn't come until much later, "a clown, acrobat."

He nodded, "Si"

I blinked, "but I just told him that we hadn't – why?"

Shrugging, he explained, "I perform, you fall into arms," he waved his arms to show whose, and
I looked at the ground to hide the blush I felt, "He think we know each other."

"Oh, no, I just explained to him we had never met before."

His eyes began to twinkle and a slight smile made their corners wrinkle up, strange that I noticed it so much on him, I didn't usually notice stuff like that.

"You are odd." He said it very slowly and very distinctly, the smile broadening.

Involuntarily, I laughed, suddenly at ease. What a strange thing to say, though it was not particularly complimentary, I thought it was awfully funny.

He watched me for a little bit, his dense eyebrows raised as if I were the strangest thing he had ever seen.

When I finally got control of myself, he was still looking at me strangely, his smile faded.

"I don't believe, no, no you not."

Panting between words, I asked, "Not what?"

"They believe you are witch."