Chapter 31
Roman
Barely an hour had passed since our arrival at Count Montego’s estate, and already Olivia was begging me to head out into the snow to explore the caves.
I let out a long, exasperated sigh.
“No.”
I gripped her shoulders.
“You can’t go. We don’t want anything to happen to the baby. Besides, you need to stay and care for Emily.”
I softened my words, kissed her nose, and then released her.
Olivia’s eyes flashed with defiance.
“Emily has a nursemaid, in case you haven’t noticed over the past five months,” she said, her arms waving dramatically.
Then, without warning—
She snatched a feather-stuffed pillow from the massive bed and hurled it at me.
I batted it away, biting back a grin.
Stubborn, fiery woman.
The room Count Montego had given us was by far the most opulent I had ever set foot in.
The ornately carved bed sat on a raised podium, its frame and headboard adorned with intricate scrollwork and inset jewels.
Above it, a massive chandelier dripped with more gems, each glistening with the glow of over twenty “modern” oil lamps.
Our assigned maid had to climb onto a stool in the center of the bed to light and extinguish the candles each night.
The walls were paneled in blond-colored wood, with dark walnut inlays creating intricate designs.
Carved dressers and armoires lined the room, each piece of furniture a work of art.
The two massive windows, framed by heavy gold-colored curtains, overlooked a breathtaking view of immaculately kept gardens and rolling hillsides.
But none of it mattered.
Because Olivia was still glaring at me.
Her arms crossed over her chest, her expression fierce and unrelenting.
“We already lost a baby,” I reminded her.
The words hung between us like a blade.
I stepped closer, my eyes locking onto hers.
“I’m doing everything I can to ensure we don’t lose a second one. I refuse to let you go out in this weather and explore a treacherous cave.”
Olivia’s nostrils flared.
Her hands balled into tight fists at her sides.
“Everything in your power?” she repeated, her voice rising. “Your power?”
She took a single step forward, fire burning in her gaze.
“Which one of us is growing this baby inside her belly?”
I rolled my eyes toward the ceiling.
Fighting with my lovely wife could be utterly exasperating.
And yet—I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
I softened my tone. “We’re no longer in your twenty-first century, my love.”
My fingers brushed over her arms.
“Which means I can and will assume my role as your protector. Many men in your century would turn and tuck their tails rather than face the challenges of sixteenth-century Europe. I am not that kind of man.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, her arms crossing even tighter over her chest.
“Fine.” Her tone was clipped. “I’ll stay home with the women and children.”
A smirk tugged at my lips.
“Well, you are a woman. And you are with child. So that makes sense.”
The pillow she hurled at my head came fast.
I barely ducked in time, grinning as I slipped out of the bedroom before she could throw something heavier.
Out in the snow-covered yard, Malik, Marcellious, and I stood beside our horses, surrounded by a pale, lifeless world absent of color.
The horses shifted restlessly, their breath billowing into the cold air in thick white clouds.
Malik wordlessly handed Marcellious and me a torch—wooden shafts wrapped in oil-soaked rags.
I gripped mine, watching the flames roar to life, their flickering glow battling against the weak, overcast daylight.
Malik kept one for himself.
With one last glance back toward the estate, we mounted our horses and set off for the caves.
Although the storm had passed, a bitter wind still sliced through the air, lifting the snow in swirling drifts.
A weak sun struggled to punch through the thick gray clouds, its feeble light barely warming our frozen world.
I pulled my woolen scarf higher over my nose and mouth, relishing its barrier against the biting cold.
The horses trudged through the deep snow, their hooves sinking into the unseen, treacherous ground beneath.
At last, we reached the cavern.
Dismounting, we ground-tied our steeds near the entrance. Then, torches in hand, we stepped into the darkness.
The flickering flames cast long, eerie shadows across the stone walls, pockmarked as if by a giant’s thumb. A damp, earthy scent clung to the air, mingling with the steady water drip from the ceiling, trickling down jagged rock formations.
Ahead, several archways loomed.
“Let’s each take a tunnel to explore,” I said, forcing confidence into my voice. In truth, I had never navigated a cave system and had no idea what I was doing. But we could regroup with a plan if we assessed the terrain separately.
“Good idea,” Marcellious agreed.
I veered toward the rightmost archway. The moment I stepped forward, my foot slipped on the slick stone. Catching myself, I moved cautiously deeper into the cavern.
Stalactites hung from the ceiling like brown icicles, while jagged stalagmites jutted upward in defiant opposition—a mesmerizing display of nature’s relentless artistry.
Then, I rounded a bend and stopped short.
The tunnel dropped straight down. It was a sheer descent, impossible to navigate without ropes and climbing gear. I wasn’t sure this problem had a solution in 16th-century Europe.
With a frustrated sigh, I turned back.
Marcellious stood at the cavern entrance.
Malik was nowhere to be seen.
“What did you find?” I asked.
“Treacherous footing. There’s a narrow walkway about this wide,” Marcellious said, spreading his thumb and forefinger apart.
“I hit a dead end—a vertical drop. There is no way down without proper equipment. And I have no idea what kind of ropes exist in this period,” I admitted. “It’s strange, knowing the technology of different centuries but not being able to access it when you need it.”
“I hear that. I don’t yet have the privilege of the twenty-first century,” he said, gripping the arm holding his torch. “That must be something to behold.”
“It is. They have these incredible modes of transport—out of this world. I want to get a motorcycle.”
Marcellious shot me a skeptical look. “What’s a motorcycle?”
“A two-wheeled machine powered by an engine. It moves faster than a chariot or a galloping horse,” I said, grinning as I recalled seeing one in Seattle.
“Really?”
“Yes. You know that rush when you’re racing across the plains on horseback? Imagine going twice as fast.” The thought alone sent a thrill through me.
Marcellious’ face lit up. “Fuck, yeah, that would be fun.”
I smiled. “Yes. Fuck, yeah.”
A shuffling sound made us turn as Malik emerged from the archway to my right.
“Gentlemen, we have our work cut out for us, do we not?” he said, brushing dust from his coat.
“What did you find?” I asked.
“A passage too narrow for even a child to squeeze through,” Malik replied, stopping beside us. “You?”
I gestured downward. “Straight drop.”
“Narrow ledge with death on either side,” Marcellious added. “And a lot of potholes. If we dig into them, we might find something below.”
Malik nodded thoughtfully. “I say we head back and see if Count Montego has the necessary supplies. If not, we’ll have to forge our way into town.”
With that, we retraced our steps through the snow, the cold biting into our bones.
Smoke curled from the chimneys of the count’s palace, drifting in blue-gray tendrils across the sky.
Upon dismounting, we thrust the ends of our torches into the snowdrifts, the flames hissing into silence. I stamped the snow from my boots before stepping into the mudroom at the back of the house. Stripping off my coat, leather gloves, and scarf, I hung them on the hooks to dry.
Marcellious and Malik followed suit.
We tromped through the kitchen, where the air was thick with the mouthwatering scents of roasting meat and simmering sauces.
Maids bustled between cauldrons, stirring fragrant broths, while a pig and a deer rotated on a spit over the fire.
My stomach tightened with hunger. Life on the road had often meant stale bread and whatever we could hunt. A real meal would be a luxury.
Count Montego awaited us in the dining hall with a cup of tea. A silver tray of sweetmeats and cheeses rested on the table before him.
“Our intrepid explorers return!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “What’s the news from the depths of the cavern?”
“We need supplies. Quite a few, actually,” I said, pulling out a chair and sinking into it.
Marcellious and Malik joined me.
“Would you like some tea to warm the old bones?” the count asked, nudging the silver tray toward us. “And help yourselves—plenty of appetizers.”
“Yes, please,” I said, reaching for a morsel of meat.
The count picked up a small bell near his plate and shook it.
A plain-looking maid hurried into the room. “Yes, Count Montego?”
“Fetch a teapot for my guests, if you would.”
She curtsied. “Of course, sir. Right away.”
As I ate, Marcellious and Malik recounted our findings to the count.
The maid soon returned, balancing a tea tray laden with delicate cups, a silver teapot, and a small cake stand stacked with tiny confections. She placed the tray on the sideboard, poured steaming tea into each cup, and carefully set them before us. Then, with another curtsy, she departed.
The count rubbed his hands together. “So, how can I be of service to your expedition?”
“We need ropes, shovels, pickaxes, and other equipment,” Marcellious said.
The count nodded thoughtfully. “I know of a shop in town that might have what you need, but it’s a bit of a journey from here.”
Before he could elaborate, a familiar voice entered the room.
“You’re back.”
Olivia stood in the doorway, looking curious.
She crossed the room and slipped into the seat between Malik and me. “What did you find?”
We briefed Olivia on our progress, detailing what we had discovered.
Her expression darkened as she fixed her gaze on me. “Which means what, exactly, in terms of gathering supplies?”