The Princess of Cordoba Read online

  “And what is that?”

  “More delicious breads to feast on.”

  Victoria laughed. “You think with your stomach.”

  “That is true.”

  Ariana knew that she had distracted Victoria with her false cheer. But secretly, she had no plans to do as she was told, at least not yet. For now, she was still free. She was still her own person and no one’s property. Come nightfall, she would be gone. Her father would launch a search for her. He would send his soldiers. And he would be humiliated, but Ariana cared not. She did not know what she would do or how she would pass time, but she was determined to at least taste freedom before her life changed for the worst. Whether she liked it or not, in mere days she would be married to someone who barely knew her name.

  She went to her room, bidding good day to Victoria, excited about her secret plans.

  Chapter Three

  Dunbar brought his hand slowly up to his face. He felt something trickling down his brow and wiped at it, wincing as his fingers touched his forehead. He looked at his fingertips and found blood there. His stomach heaved as he attempted to stand, and his head hurt badly. Did I fall? He thought to himself, confused. His eyesight was blurry, and his breathing was labored. He felt as if he had been torn into a million pieces and then put back together again hastily.

  With hesitation, he slowly stood up and looked around. He blinked not understanding or believing what he saw. He immediately looked up. Where was the hole that only seconds ago had been above him? Had the hole caved in? But then, where was the source of light coming from? He called to his team, “Jenny! Carlos!”

  He stopped abruptly when he heard a noise across from him. He looked in the direction of the sound and saw a small child attempting to hide behind what appeared to be a makeshift counter. When had that gotten there? How had he missed that when he was first lowered in the cavern? He shook his head as if to clear it, but when he looked again, the child was still there. Its eyes were wide, and the child looked ready to scream.

  “Where did you come from?” James asked aloud, while reaching up again to touch his head. He must have hit his head harder than he thought because he was seeing things.

  A light source? A kid? Where was he?

  The kid looked afraid and then ran away through a door that James was sure only moments ago hadn’t existed. Sunlight beamed inside the small room and James shook his head. What was going on?

  He followed the kid out the door, still rubbing his head. He blinked twice, not expecting to be above ground and definitely not expecting to see the sun. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the brightness, after all, just minutes ago he had been in a dark ruin of a house. It didn’t matter how many times he blinked or rubbed his eyes, the world around him did not change.

  Fighting back disbelief, he scanned the area. It was rural, that’s for sure. Where was he and where was the rest of his team? Had something happened and they had moved him here? He turned in a full circle, seeing trees as far as the eye could see. He then turned back to the house that sat there. The architecture, if one could call it that, looked hundreds of years old but the materials weren’t weathered and showed no sign of deteriorating. If he had to guess, he would assume the house was built sometime in the early 1600s. He wondered how it had been so well-preserved and couldn’t help but reach out to touch it. He shook his head. This couldn’t be. Homes like this couldn’t be preserved in such a state for hundreds of years. It should have been in ruin, like the home he had seen when he had been lowered into the hole.

  Not believing his own eyes, he made his way back into the old home and surveyed its contents. Every minute detail told him that someone had gone to great lengths to create a home that looked to be straight out of the 17th century. There could be no other explanation. It had to be a recreation. As he was about to exit, he noticed then, something shiny on the living room floor. It was a crystal. The same crystal he had found before he had woken up wherever here was.

  Tucking it safely back into his pocket, he then made his way outside.

  As he scanned the area more closely, he saw that there were a few other 17th century style homes scattered across the landscape. And not too far from the homes were small scale farms.

  He figured he was in an area dedicated to historical reenactments. He had heard of such towns though he hadn’t ever visited one. It didn’t seem to be very tourist friendly, he thought to himself as he made his way through the trees.

  He wondered how he had gotten there. And where was the rest of his team? As he crossed in front of a neighboring house, he heard someone shouting at him in a language he didn’t fully understand. It sounded like Spanish, but something about it was off. He turned in the direction of the voice and saw a man carrying some sort of farming tool walking quickly towards him.

  Relieved to see someone who might know what was going on, James waved in greeting. The man didn’t wave back and as he grew closer, James realized that the man looked angry. He began to shout at James while gesturing for him to go. Others began to venture from inside their homes attracted by the upheaval the strange man was making. As the people ventured closer to him, their clothes, he noted, were historically accurate, as well. But what kind of historical reenactment tourist site threatened its tourists? Something wasn’t right.

  From the distance, he heard horses approaching and he warily turned in their direction. Soldiers on horseback were descending on him and they didn’t look welcoming. He took a few steps back, looking around for a way to escape. As he did, he watched them unsheathe their swords as they rode straight towards him. Panicked, James looked towards the trees and made a flash decision to make a run for it.

  As he ran, he could hear shouting behind him. They were on horseback. There was no way he could outrun them. He rushed to evade them and lost his footing. Swearing, he went tumbling down a hill and landed with a thump in a stream. They came for him, charging forward, swords swinging. James stumbled up and crossed the creek, going deeper into the forest when suddenly the ground gave from under him.

  He didn’t know how far he fell. It seemed like an eternity before he landed with a splash into a river. He went under, sinking deeply before fighting his way back up to breathe. Gasping for air, he looked around only to see the guards back their horses away from the precarious edge. Swimming to shore, James dragged his battered body to the river’s bank and collapsed. He closed his eyes, thankful for a moment respite. But he didn’t rest long. He figured the soldiers knew these woods better than he did. He knew he couldn’t outrun them, so he hid in a large downed tree covered in wildflowers and shrubbery. And he was grateful that he did. He could hear the soldiers searching for him, so he waited them out with bated breath.

  He felt like he waited there forever and then finally, when all seemed clear, he peeked out. He didn’t know what was going on. Covered in mud and dirt, and sore throughout his body, he thought about the bits and pieces of the language that he had understood. But those pieces made no sense.

  He shook his head. They were all taking this re-enactment too far. Either that or he had lost his mind and was living in a nightmare. He followed the stream for some time until he came to a clearing. And to his surprise, just beyond the clearing was a palace. He could see it from afar.

  Seeing no other building in sight, he decided to head towards it. After all, there had to be someone there who could explain to him exactly where he was.

  He walked for what seemed like dozens of miles and then the temperature began to drop. He surmised it to be late in the day. He knew if he didn’t find shelter soon, he would be in for a rough night. He came across what seemed to be an abandoned stable or barn and decided to make his way to the palace in the morning.

  James searched his brain for some sort of explanation for why his team was missing and why he was in the middle of nowhere. His brain had an explanation, but time travel wasn’t an explanation he was willing to accept.

  He made his way to the barn and settled in for t
he night, covering himself with leaves and branches. He prayed the soldiers wouldn’t find him there. Just as he began to close his eyes, he heard the barn door squeaking and then he heard faint footsteps approaching. He sat there in silence hoping that whoever was there wouldn’t be able to see him in the dark.

  He could see the person’s silhouette in the shadows. It was a woman, clearly. And he noted, she was wearing pants unlike all the other women he had seen today. A woman wearing pants. Thank god, he thought. Finally, someone was dressed like a real person from the 21st century.

  He cleared his throat and stood up, knowing that he would startle her as he said, “I know this is going to look bad but----”

  She screamed and the next thing James knew he was out cold.

  Chapter Four

  He felt something hitting his cheek over and over. He opened one eye and then the other, his head felt heavy as if he could barely hold it up.

  Slowly, he attempted to sit up and that’s when he felt the unmistakable feel of a blade against his throat.

  The person with the blade said something to him in a language he was sure was Spanish, but he barely understood the majority of the words.

  Swallowing hard, he said in broken Spanish, “Sorry, I don’t understand you. I only speak English and French.”

  “You speak English?” the person, a woman, asked with accented English. She then slowly removed the blade from his throat.

  He would remember the feel of her hands for a lifetime, he noted. He would also remember this moment because apparently, he had been knocked unconscious by a woman. And not just any woman. A beautiful woman who without a stitch of makeup on was naturally the most stunning woman he had ever seen.

  She stared at him, pushing her long silky black hair away from her face and revealing large, beautiful hazel eyes. She studied him as he continued to study her.

  “Where are you from, stranger? And why do you speak English so well?”

  “I was born in Scotland, but I live in the U.S. I’m here on an archaeological visit. What did you hit me with?” He asked rubbing the knot that was now appearing on his forehead.

  She ignored his last question and instead asked a question of her own, “You live in the U.S.?” She frowned, the motion emphasizing her full lips. He couldn’t stop staring at them. “What is the U.S.?”

  He didn’t think she was joking. Her eyes were serious as she studied him as if he were completely out of place wearing his khakis and t-shirt covered in dirt.

  As he got a better look at her, he realized then that he had been mistaken. She wasn’t wearing modern day clothes. She was just wearing clothes that seemed to belong to a man: britches and an evening shirt. However, her clothes, although not intended for women were still historically accurate, as if he were in the past...

  He made himself say the unthinkable, “Miss, this might sound like a strange question, but what year is it?”

  “The year?” She frowned at him.

  “Yes.”

  “It is the year of our Lord, sixteen-hundred and forty-two.”

  He shook his head. That couldn’t be. “Prove it.”

  She studied him her big hazel eyes showing confusion. “Prove it? I do not understand.”

  He shook his head, “What are you doing here? Who are you hiding from?” Clearly, she wasn’t where she should be. She looked out of place, although he couldn’t quite say why.

  She shied away from the question. “I am sure I could ask you the same.”

  Their conversation wasn’t going as he intended. He studied her, noticing how effortlessly beautiful she was. And he admired that stubborn tilt of her chin. If he were truly in the 17th century, then he had lucked out.

  “What country are we in?”

  She looked at him as if he had grown a second head. “Where do you think you are?”

  “Come on, humor me.”

  She tilted her head, unsure of what he was saying. He sighed, “Am I still in Spain? Is this Spain?”

  She looked concerned, “Yes, of course. Where else did you expect to be?”

  He shook his head. “You wouldn't understand.”

  “I assure you sir, just because I am a woman does not mean I am dull-witted.”

  She looked ready to hit him. Again. He smiled; from all his knowledge of European history, the evidence said that he was stuck in the 17th century but at least he had company.

  He desperately wanted to ask her about her world, but first he had to find out how he got there. He tried to remember the last thing he did before he woke up in that house. He had been squatting down because he had found something.

  “The crystal!” he shouted startling her. He pulled it from his pocket and studied it. It glowed bright blue in the darkened area of the abandoned barn.

  The woman reached out to touch it, but he pulled it away.

  “I think...this brought me here.”

  She raised a brow, “A soiled crystal brought you to an abandoned barn? You are not well.” She turned to walk away.

  “Wait,” he called, “Where are you going?” He needed her. She spoke English. Without her, he knew he wouldn’t get very far. He didn’t care if she thought it was the 17th century or not.

  “I am afraid that I must seek shelter elsewhere. I have no interest in sharing my quarters tonight, especially with one so removed from reality.”

  Great, she thought he was crazy. Maybe he was.

  He frowned, his mind still milling over all that he had learned, “Why is it that you speak English?” If it were truly the 17th century and he had managed to defy the laws of physics and travel back in time, then who exactly was she? He knew only the royals of that time period had access to an education and this woman was clearly educated.

  “That is none of your concern. I bid you farewell, sir.”

  “Wait,” he said catching her sleeve. “Can you tell me how far away I am from the castle?”

  “The castle? Why would you want to go there?”

  He shrugged, his plan had seemed solid at the time, now he felt ridiculous. How would getting to the castle help him? He just hoped that maybe someone there would know what was happening to him. Maybe someone there could explain how he had ended up in the wrong place in time.

  “I was hoping someone there could help me.”

  She shook her head sadly, “No one will help you there. Good luck,” she said walking away out the door.

  “Wait! Where are you going?” he asked following her, unsure of what to do. After all, she was the first person he had encountered besides the kid who hadn’t tried to kill him. Sort of.

  “Do not follow me,” she hissed at him.

  “I---”

  “And why are you dressed in such a manner?”

  “I wish I knew,” he said.

  Ariana sighed and looked at him. He guessed something in his eyes convinced her to stay, as she said, “We need food. I saw berries not too far from here. I was waiting until the cover of dark to pick them.”

  “Let me help.”

  She looked hesitant and then said, “As you wish.”

  “Are you on the run from the soldiers, too?” he asked her.

  She didn’t turn around to answer him, but he could see her shoulders tense. “Were they near here?”

  He shook his head, “I haven’t seen them since morning.”

  She visibly relaxed. “So, tell me more about this U.S. You stated that is where you live, no?”

  He nodded, “I teach there.”

  “Oh, you are a scholar?”

  He shrugged, “I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m good at my job.”

  “What do you teach?”

  “Archaeology. I study human history.”

  “What a sad subject to devote one’s time to.”

  He laughed, not expecting that response. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because humans are terrible to each other. I am sure our history is nothing to be proud of. Just death, disease, and famine.”

&nb
sp; He wondered then what her life was like. Clearly, she was a noble, but he knew that didn’t make her immune to everything she had listed. He began to think that life hadn’t been too kind to---He hadn’t ever asked her name.

  “I didn’t get your name.”

  “Ariana,” she said turning around to face him. “And yours?”

  “James.”

  “James,” she repeated as if she liked the sound of it. “Tell me more about your world. I am afraid I lead a very uneventful, tedious life.”

  “So do I.”

  She smiled at him, “That rings false to me, James. Now come, help me into this tree.” He hoisted her up and with easy grace she began to climb. In the darkness, he watched her gather the berries.

  “I am coming back down,” she called. “I have plenty! We will feast tonight, James!”

  Her enthusiasm was contagious, and he stood there as she descended, finding himself not so bothered suddenly that he was either experiencing a terrible bout of psychosis or he had truly travelled back in time.

  As he considered his situation, her footing slipped on the last branch and she stumbled from the tree, a scream tore from her throat as she fell. James caught her effortlessly and settled her back on the ground.

  “Are you ok?”

  “Ok?” She repeated clearly not understanding.

  He swore. The language barrier was a pain. “Did you hurt yourself?” He asked, his hands still on her arms.

  She shook her head and James found himself not wanting to let her go. She stared at him and then at his hands and said ruefully, “Gracefulness is not my strength.”

  He smiled, “It doesn’t matter. At least you’re resourceful.”

  “Most men would prefer the company of graceful women, not resourceful women.”

  He shrugged, “I’m not most men.”

  “You are right, James, you are not like any man I have known.”

  The attraction between them was almost palpable. But he didn’t plan to stick around, and though she looked at him with curiosity in her eyes, his situation was too tenuous to get her involved.