The Golden City_A Medieval Time Travel Romance Read online

  Sarah could hear the television still coming from the living room. It sounded much like the same TV show — although she couldn't really tell the difference between them to tell the truth.

  She chopped and peeled some potatoes and took some chicken out of the fridge. Katie came wandering in while she worked, her coffee mug in hand.

  “I thought it was my turn to cook?” Katie said, looking surprised.

  Sarah smiled. “I finished my work early and thought I'd give you a day off.”

  This was a polite game they played. Both of them knew that Sarah didn't particularly approve of Katie's eclectic culinary creations. Also known as junk food.

  It would never cease to amaze Sarah how a professor of human biology would consider it a perfectly nutritionally balanced diet to eat pizza and curly fries seven days a week. Somehow Katie justified it by buying pre-made pizza bases and adding her own pizza sauce and cheese as though this somehow transformed it into health food.

  Sarah found cooking therapeutic, and she enjoyed the ritual of preparing food. The dish she was cooking was chicken with Parmentier potatoes, a favorite of her mom’s.

  When Sarah finished preparing the food, she called her housemate into the kitchen and they ate together in companionable silence.

  When Katie had finished, she thanked Sarah for the delicious meal.

  “What am I going to do when you’re away for three whole months?” she asked.

  Sarah grinned. “I think you're going to spend a lot more time doing your own cleaning and probably amassing some cholesterol in your arteries from all of the pizza and tater tots you are undoubtedly going to be eating.”

  Katie laughed. “You know me so well.”

  When they were finished eating, Katie started to clear the dishes.

  “Don't worry about that,” Sarah said. “I’ll do them.”

  Katie raised her eyebrows. “Really? But you've just done the cooking and I haven't done anything today apart from lie on the sofa and watch TV.”

  Sarah smiled. “I’m sure. I don't mind, and besides, you're going to have to fend for yourself for a few months soon so make the most of this while you can.”

  “Okay then,” Katie said, needing no further encouragement, and she trotted out of the kitchen back into the living room.

  Moments later, Sarah heard the TV start up again. She closed the kitchen door to drown out the inane chatter of yet another boring television show and set to work tackling the dishes. She genuinely didn't mind doing the washing up — in fact, she found it quite rewarding. She had vetoed Katie's request to buy a dishwasher on several occasions.

  She actually enjoyed washing dishes by hand, and she also loved the quaint old world feel of the cottage and didn't want to ruin that with too many modern appliances. Laptops and televisions were pretty much necessities, but dishwashers were not. She filled the sink with water and dish detergent and set to work. First the glasses, then the cups, then the cutlery, then the plates. Pans and cooking utensils were always last. Each time the water cooled or became dirty she changed it immediately. As the drainer became cluttered, she paused and dried the items and put them away in their proper place.

  Kitchen sparkling, she looked around and admired her handiwork. Nothing better than a nice clean kitchen, she thought. The only thing better was perhaps fresh bedding, but then, who didn’t love fresh bedding?

  The chores completed, Sarah took a seat at the kitchen table and began to browse the Internet on her iPad. She didn't want too many modern appliances, but she wasn't a complete Neanderthal. She was so engrossed in the article she was reading that she didn't even hear the door open. Before she knew it, Katie was behind her and reading over her shoulder.

  “That’s absolute nonsense!” Katie said into her ear, making Sarah shriek and almost drop the iPad.

  “Sorry, I didn't mean to sneak up on you,” Katie giggled. She pointed at the article Sarah was reading. “You don't actually believe that garbage, do you?”

  Sarah shrugged. “I think it’s interesting.”

  “What, that you can determine your ancestry by the shape of your toes? I have never read anything so ridiculous.”

  Sarah’s cheeks heated a little. “It’s just for fun. Like horoscopes and stuff.”

  “If you say so,” Katie said. “If you want to find out about your ancestry, you could always take a DNA test. You can buy them online now and they’re actually reasonably accurate when it comes to identifying ancestral backgrounds. As far as I know anyway.”

  Sarah nodded, pondering the idea. “Where would I order the test?”

  “I think Ancestry.com might do them, but it’s not the kind of thing that interests me so I’m not completely sure.”

  “Thanks,” Sarah said, “it sounds fun, I might look into it.”

  “No problem,” Katie said, refilling her coffee mug and leaving Sarah in peace once more. When the door to the kitchen had shut Sarah immediately googled Ancestry.com. It wasn't her first visit to the website, but she'd never seen them advertising a DNA test before. But this time, it was there on the front page, with a special 25% off offer too.

  Sarah clicked on the big red sale button, and her stomach plummeted at the advertised price. Goodness, even with a discount it was a pretty hefty price.

  Was it really worth $500 to find out where your great, great, great grandparents might have come from? She closed the page down and went back to her quiz about toes. She slipped one fluffy slipper sock off and examined her foot. It was petite and quite a nice shape. She was actually quite proud of her feet, which might be a little weird, but Sarah didn't care.

  Her middle toe protruded a little further than her big toe, which was an unusual feature that the article suggested pointed to Scandinavian or Germanic roots, and the high arch of her foot indicated an eastern European background according to the article.

  This intrigued Sarah, as she had always wondered how much truth there was in her gramma's claim to a Czechoslovakian background. Katie’s mocking words rang in her head, that it was ridiculous to put any faith in an article about toes to identify your ancestry.

  She could certainly see the logic in Katie's argument. Her eyes landed on her purse hanging on a hook on the back of the bathroom door.

  She considered her current financial situation. She wasn't a big spender, but despite her growing university career she wasn't earning megabucks either, and the rent on the cottage wasn't particularly cheap. She did have some money put aside for new luggage, but did she really need new luggage? She had a perfectly serviceable if slightly battered suitcase in her bedroom that she had owned since she was 15. That was large enough. So, could she really justify buying a brand-new suitcase just for this trip? Her original justification had been that it was a long trip, but that didn't hold up to scrutiny. Regardless of how long she would be in Europe, she was staying in Prague the whole time. It would only be one flight and one flight home. Surely that didn't really justify new luggage? Most of her stuff would be sent by courier, anyway.

  Besides, luggage wasn't going to last her whole life, was it? But the knowledge of her ancestry was a gift to herself that she could keep forever. It couldn't be lost, or stolen, or broken. Having completely managed to justify the purchase to herself, she opened up the browser window again and grabbed her purse from its resting place. She tapped in her payment details quickly before she could change her mind and pressed the purchase button. Butterflies flooded her stomach as the whirring circle stopped and confirmed the successful transaction. A test kit would be issued to her in the next five working days for her to return at her convenience. She'd only have just enough time before she left for her trip. She hoped that delivery would be speedy.

  Chapter 2

  Max hurried along the familiar corridors of the castle, his footsteps echoing on the hard, gray stone. The sun streamed in through the windows, and tiny dust motes fluttered and glittered, caught in the rays. He wondered how much his life was about to change. Today was the day he
was due to meet his betrothed, and he was apprehensive about the whole matter. Royal engagements were primarily about alliances, and the betrothal contract with the princess of Boheme had been arranged when he had been just a small child. Now he was a grown man with the responsibilities of a prince, but he couldn’t help wanting this to be something more than just a political partnership. He’d once been told that he was destined to find true love, and that was something he found he wanted for himself.

  He paused before he reached the throne room to dust imaginary lint off his brocade jacket. He inspected his shoes to make sure they shone, and he smoothed his unruly brown hair down. It wouldn’t do to meet the princess looking anything less than a perfectly put together prince.

  He pulled open the heavy, gilded doors to the royal throne room and found his parents already there waiting, seated on their wooden thrones. His mother looked giddy with excitement at the prospect of meeting her new daughter-in-law, but his father was wearing his usual somber expression. Max had inherited his mother’s soft blue eyes and his father’s sharp nose and square jaw. He was taller than both of his parents — in fact, he was the tallest man in Prague and possibly several kingdoms beyond. He had also inherited his mother’s slight frame, which combined with his height made him look a little gangly. On the whole, he was a perfect blend of both parents.

  Servants bustled around the room, their excited chatter echoing around the cavernous room, adding to the anticipatory air, as they got to work setting the enormous banqueting table ready for a feast. The whole room felt alive with a giddy excitement that was contagious. They had been promised to each other from a very early age, chosen to strengthen alliances between the two kingdoms of Prague and Boheme; the two largest kingdoms left in the land. Max’s mother took both of his hands in hers and squeezed them tightly. The touch of her soft, cool hands calmed his nerves a little.

  “I’m so happy for you, my darling,” his mother said, her beautiful eyes shining with happy, unshed tears.

  “Thank you. I just hope I’m not a disappointment to her.” Max smiled at his mother.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” his father said. “Disappointment has nothing to do with it. Her family will be gaining a powerful alliance and she will become queen of a larger kingdom than her own.”

  “But still, the possibility of love exists even when political considerations are taken into account,” his mother said, squeezing Max’s hand.

  “Love is irrelevant,” his father said, waving a hand as if he could bat the fanciful notion away. “All this ridiculous talk of love is putting ideas in the boy’s head. He has a duty and responsibility to his country and that is all. His new wife is beautiful, she will not be an embarrassment to the kingdom, and she’s royal blood of the right stock. Those are the only things that matter. You’re a perfect match.” His mouth drew in a thin-lipped line, indicating that this was his final point on the matter and the discussion was closed.

  “Yes, Father.” Max knew that there was absolutely no point arguing with his father when he was in this mood. Besides, there wasn’t really an argument, was there? True love was just a fanciful notion for most people, so why would he be any different? In fact, his duties to his kingdom made it even less likely that he would find it. He couldn’t help hoping that he could fulfill both destinies, and that they perhaps weren’t mutually exclusive.

  Absentmindedly, he closed his hand around the rings in his pocket. He heard the bugles from the hallway announcing the arrival of the Princess and her parents. His heart sped up, beating a tattoo in his chest as they approached. This was it. This was the moment.

  The door swung open and a middle-aged couple entered the room with an entourage of servants and a raven-haired beauty beside them. She had porcelain skin and lips as red as a rose. Her beautiful brown eyes with amber-flecked highlights were framed with long dark lashes that fluttered as she looked around the throne room. Her mother gave her a surreptitious nudge, and the girl gave Max and his parents a dazzling smile.

  “James!” boomed the King of Boheme, a gray-haired, rotund man with ruddy cheeks. “At last our children will be joined in the union that was promised so long ago. What a joyous day for both of our kingdoms!”

  He shook Max’s father’s hand heartily, his mouth upturned in a wide grin. Max was amused the exuberance of the other king, which was in stark contrast to the cool indifference his own father, the King of Prague. He observed the Princess trying not to stare at him, sending shy glances his way. There was no denying that she was a great beauty, and any man should be proud to marry such a lovely woman of such royal blood.

  Yet the giddy anticipation that Max had felt hearing the footsteps closing in on the throne room doors had vanished. Because despite the Princess’s beautiful appearance, the rings in his pocket remained cold. And while his eyes could appreciate the beauty of the Princess like a fine flower, or a piece of art, his heart wasn’t warming at the sight of her. It remained cold, like the rings. He arranged a polite and regal smile on his lips. He was glad he had asked the forger to make the new rings. It looked like they might be needed.

  He kissed the Princess’s hand with a flourished bow. A small smile tilted her lips a little. She really was very pretty when she smiled, he thought.

  “I am very pleased to meet you, Katherine,” he said, when he rose again and looked her in the eyes. A delicate flush stained her cheeks, but her eyes remained flat.

  “And I, you, Prince Maximillian,” she said, giving a graceful curtsy.

  The King of Boheme clapped his hands together. “Well, isn’t this exciting. I can hardly wait for the wedding.”

  “Slow down, father,” Katherine said. “We’ve not yet had the official betrothal ceremony.”

  Her father dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand. “Purely protocol. Before you know it, you’ll be wed, and what a fine couple you make already!” His wife squeezed his hand, perhaps a little harder than was strictly comfortable. Max caught his slight wince, and the white circles dotted in the flesh of his hand where her fingers had been that turned quickly to pinkish marks.

  “You must be tired after your journey,” Max’s mother said, her eyes flicking briefly to the marks on the Kings hand. “Our staff will show you to your quarters so that you can rest before dinner.”

  “That would be very nice,” Katherine said.

  The head ladies’ maid escorted the Boheme royal family to their quarters, located in the guest wing of the castle. Max was relieved as the doors closed behind them. He had things to do, and for a moment he’d wondered if he would have to spend his whole afternoon with them.

  “I will see you at dinner,” he said to both his parents.

  “Where are you rushing off to?” his father asked.

  “I just have some reading to do,” he said.

  His father shook his head. “You and your reading.” He didn’t say anything further, and so Max took his leave gratefully.

  Max wove his way through the crowds in the town square, disappearing in amongst the hustle and bustle of the heaving marketplace. There were people everywhere, merchants shouting over each other announcing their wares, and the earthy smells of animals and strange spices intermingling and permeating the air.

  The Orlop towered over the square, only the castle in the background overshadowing it. A young boy barged his way through the crowds with two goats, the ropes attached to their necks wound firmly around his hand. The boy himself weaved expertly through the milling people, but the goats were less graceful, knocking against people with their stocky bodies. Max almost knocked over a young girl when a goat barged into his legs, but he managed to steady himself. He resisted the urge to yell at the boy, wanting to avoid drawing attention to himself.

  Max adjusted his dowdy brown jacket that was a little too short in the sleeves. The afternoon sun beat down on him, and the jacket smelled like it needed a good wash. It would serve its purpose, though. He’d borrowed the clothes he was currently wearing from one of the s
ervants at the castle, not wanting to be recognized in the town.

  He would normally happily visit the marketplace dressed as himself. Or, at least he would have before his father had raised the townsfolk’s taxes. He’d noticed recently that his reception in the town was becoming less and less positive amongst the common folk, although they wouldn’t dare be rude to him. It seemed he was having to wear disguises more and more these days.

  He entered the blacksmith’s shop and collected the items he’d ordered. They were heavy, and his cloth satchel’s strap wasn’t quite strong enough to deal with the weight. It snapped, sending the satchel crashing to the floor and startling a few nearby townsfolk. Max lifted the satchel and cradled the heavy package in his arms. His arms were aching by the time he approached the castle.

  He slipped through the secret entrance in the wall, and a hand on his shoulder had him almost jumping out of his skin. The parcel crashed to the floor again and he winced.

  “Sorry, sire,” Henry said. “I didn’t mean to startle you, I just meant to warn you that your father is looking for you.”

  “Thanks, Henry,” Max said, gathering up the package again and glancing around to make sure that the noise hadn’t attracted too much attention. “Can you take these to my workshop while I get changed?”

  Henry nodded, taking the package from Max. “Oh, I forgot to say, it’s heavy,” he said as Henry’s eyes widened at the weight. “Can you manage it?”

  “I think so,” Henry puffed, and Max hoped that he could. As the castle joiner, Henry was used to manual work, and he was strong for an old man. Besides, Max didn’t have time to do it himself, he needed to get back into his royal clothes and find out what his father wanted.

  Chapter 3

  “Love seeketh not itself to please, nor for itself hath any care, but for another gives its ease, and builds a Heaven in Hell's despair.”