The Crown of Valencia

by Catherine Friend

  The monk finally snagged Solana, but she yelled and broke free, running straight to Arturo and wrapping herself around his leg. When the monk tried to pry the child off him, Solana shrieked, hugged poor Arturo even tighter, and screamed.

  As she did, an angry yell rose up from somewhere far behind us, perhaps on the road, and what had to be a war horse at full gallop sent shock waves through the soil.

  I met Father Ruiz’s eyes, glaring my accusation, and the guilty priest simply closed his eyes briefly, all the confession I needed. My heart thundered as loudly as the horse’s hooves, since I was pretty sure I knew both the horse and the rider. Torn between excitement and fear, I stepped back into the shadows of the trees along the stream, suddenly interested in seeing her through Arturo’s eyes. Arturo saw me do this but had his hands full with the screaming Solana.

  Solana’s shrieks rose, but Arturo stopped trying to comfort her when the horse pounded around the monastery and straight toward him. When Arturo’s mouth dropped open and his eyes widened in awe, I let myself smile, understanding just what a fearsome sight bore down on him.

  “What harm have you done this child?” called the rider, who slid off the snorting horse and strode toward Arturo. Elena’s profile came into view and suddenly my vision blurred. She had not changed—same black hair, ramrod back, fierce scowl, which my son now faced. I touched the rough bark of the tree next to me for support.

  “Release the child,” she bellowed. Her breeches and tunic were dirty and stained with dried blood, explained by the dead deer tied across Matamoros’s wide rump.

  “I…ah…” Arturo couldn’t take his eyes from the ‘man’ yelling at him.

  “Mama!” Solana finally ceased her tantrum and threw herself at Elena, removing all doubt as Elena lifted the girl into her arms. Realization flashed across Arturo’s face. “You are…” I felt his confusion. This was Luis Navarro before him, but the girl had said ‘Mama,’ so should he say Elena? “You are…Navarro.”

  Elena adjusted Solana onto her hip, looking just as comfortable with her child as any other mother. I didn’t know what to think. Was there a husband somewhere? A lover?

  “Yes, I am. And who are you to make this child scream?” The monks tried to answer but Elena held up her hand.

  My son swallowed, and I was proud of his courage. Holy crap, when had he grown up?

  “I am Arturo Vincent. I am the son of a woman you once knew.”

  Elena froze, ignoring little Solana, who now played with Elena’s earlobe. “A woman I once knew?”

  That seemed to be my cue, so nearly faint with a sudden fear she wouldn’t remember me, I stepped from the shadows. “That would be me,” I said quietly.

  Elena whirled, and although I was vaguely aware Arturo reached for Solana when Elena’s grip loosened, my vision focused only on her. Our eyes met and I need not have feared she’d forgotten me. Elena opened and closed her mouth several times, but said nothing, eyes dark with shock.

  My pulse raced. “It’s me. I’m—I’m sorry I’ve been away so long.” More lame words came out my mouth, but I wasn’t really aware of what I said. As the air between the two of us throbbed with energy, Arturo and the monks moved away, one of them leading Matamoros, another leading Solana, who went without protest this time.

  My skirts and shoes were soaking wet, so I should have been cold, but suddenly I was so warm I expected to start steaming soon.

  “Is it really you?” she whispered.

  I moved close enough to see a new crescent scar along one jaw, another slicing through an eyebrow. “It’s me, Elena. I’m really here.”

  She shook her head, a sad smile dancing across her face. “No, I do not believe you are. I have imagined you appearing so many times. How do I know this is not yet another dream?”

  I reached out and touched her hand.

  “Mother of God!” She jerked back, breathing hard through her nose. I waited for reality to take hold. Finally, after a few minutes, she reached a trembling hand for my cheek and touched me. I swayed dangerously. How could I have gone so long without feeling this way?

  “I am not seeing visions?” She rubbed a thumb across my cheek.

  “No.”

  She touched my short curls. “Your hair.”

  “Long story.”

  “You are here, now, in this time.” Her fingers lightly wandered down my shoulders, my arms, sending shivers through me.

  “Yes.” I dared not say more.

  “Eight years, Kate.” Only inches separated us now.

  “Eight years, one month, and fifteen days.” What if she loved someone else now?

  “You came with Arturo.” She leaned closer, drinking in every inch of my face.

  I felt her breath on my lips, and I shook. “Another long story.”

  She narrowed those ice blue eyes, staring at me as if I were a puff of smoke likely to disappear. By now the others had reached the monastery, banging doors and scolding Solana, so we were alone. I licked my lips. All I wanted to do was fall into her arms and kiss her, but I couldn’t. No ties. No rekindling a flame I couldn’t keep burning.

  “You have grown even more beautiful with time,” she whispered.

  “And you’ve grown even more blind.”

  Her lip twitched. “You have not changed.”

  I grinned so broadly my cheeks hurt. “So, you remember me.”

  She couldn’t stop grinning herself. “Vaguely.”

  I smiled, but made no move to touch her. After eight years of imagining this moment, I was suddenly as nervous as a teenager on a first date, but then Elena slid her hand behind my neck, sending delicious shivers down my arms. “Eight years is a very long time,” she said.

  I moved close enough to feel the heat of her body. She’d had a child, but those eyes were sparkling like one carat diamonds, so perhaps her feelings hadn’t dimmed. “Yes, it is,” I said. “Much can happen in eight years.” Without thinking, I lightly rested my hands on her hips, the most natural thing in the world to do, and suddenly we were in each other’s arms. I buried my face in her neck and let my relief flow as she clutched me to her. She didn’t hate me for leaving.

  “Kate,” Elena murmured against my cheek, “I have missed you beyond all reason.” Then her lips found mine, and eight years slipped away as if it had only been eight hours. It was 1086 again and we lived at Duañez and held each other every night, and I felt whole again, as if a limb had been reattached, as if my heart had been restarted. As we kissed, my brain shouted that this couldn’t last, that after June 15, I was taking Arturo back to the future, but I couldn’t stop kissing her. I felt like a drowning woman desperate for oxygen.

  When I grew so dizzy I thought I’d fall over, I finally managed to pull back. Too overwhelmed to speak, Elena led me to a bench and we sat down. I burned to ask her about Solana, to tell her about Rodrigo and ask for her help, but I wanted nothing to interfere with this moment. We sat there, grinning at each other.

  “I cannot tell you how it makes me feel to have you here,” Elena said. “Tell me about your life, about Arturo.” Not until she took my hand in hers did I remember how well we’d fit together.

  Relieved to be on safe ground for a few minutes, I shared stories about Arturo’s childhood, about my mishaps as a mother. Body heat and the warm stone bench dried my skirts as Elena and I got reacquainted. Twice I wanted to kiss her again but suddenly felt shy.

  Finally, as the bench fell into the shade, the sun now well below the tree line, I steered the conversation in the direction she’d avoided. “I have told you all about Arturo. You’ve met him. I couldn’t help but notice that you, too, have had a child.”

  Elena grinned with pride. “Yes, I do. She is a little hellion.” Her face softened. “Sometimes she reminds me of you.”

  “She lives here at the monastery?”

  “Yes. The poor monks have all become gray-haired, thanks to Solana. Every day she is like a storm sweeping through here, yet the monks do love her.” She sighe
d. “I live here with her in the winters, then during King Alfonso’s summer campaigns all I can do is dream of her. I dare not take her from this place, because as you can see, she freely calls me Mama, which would reveal more than is safe.” We locked eyes, and Elena clearly struggled with a thought. “Kate, since Solana, I…I understand now why you returned to Arturo.”

  I swallowed as eight years of guilt threatened to leak out my tear ducts. Determined that my waterworks wouldn’t spoil our time together, I took a shaky breath. “Elena, what happened after I left?” Surely this would help lead her to telling me about the father.

  She pressed her lips together, then gazed out toward the monastery. “I died,” she said. A door banged open and little Solana came flying out, followed by Arturo carrying a small bundle. As the ‘hellion’ came careening down the path, Elena watched her daughter. “And Solana brought me back to life.”

  “Mama! Do you know this pretty lady?” Solana climbed into Elena’s lap.

  “Yes, I do, little bird.” Elena kissed the toddler’s rosy cheek, and I was nearly moved to tears by Elena’s tenderness. She’d never shown this side of herself to anyone but me before, and I was so pleased she was sharing it with her child.

  “Mom, I brought you some dry things.” As I changed my socks and shoes, Elena put Solana aside and stood.

  “Arturo, I am Elena. I must apologize for my words of anger.” They shook hands, Arturo grinning so broadly I knew he was thrilled.

  “No problem,” he breathed. “It is an honor to meet you.” Arturo flashed me a wistful look, one that shocked me, but clearly said, “We could be a family, the four of us.” I shook my head. No, we could not. Arturo’s safety and health and college education had to come first, not my heart. The only thing that would prevent me from returning Arturo to the safety of the twenty-first century was if something unthinkable were to happen to him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  All evening I kept trying to find a moment alone with Elena to explain that I needed her help putting Rodrigo on the throne of Valencia, but Solana was an inexhaustible whirlwind not to be ignored. Besides, I couldn’t concentrate. Every time I tried to marshal my thoughts, I imagined Elena’s hands on my body. At one point I watched her hands move as she described a battle to Arturo, and my body responded as if she’d caressed me, not the air. Arturo’s eyes shone as they talked, and once he even had her on her feet trying a few Tae Kwon Do moves.

  After the simple meal of soup and bread and an hour of playing with Solana and Arturo in the gardens, Solana began to fuss. Elena announced she’d had enough, and the child must sleep. As we herded the little girl toward her room, Arturo gave me a hug, whispering in my ear, “It’s so nice to see you really happy.”

  “I’ve been happy,” I started to protest, but Arturo shook his head.

  “Not like this. I’ve never seen you smile the way you’ve been smiling tonight.” Before I could answer, he gave me the most irritating and inappropriate wink, then jogged down the hall toward his own bunk. With Elena leaning against the doorjamb, I told Solana “The Three Little Pigs,” and “Cinderella,” and “Chicken Little” until she dropped off.

  By now the monks had all retired, leaving only a few oil lamps burning. As Elena and I returned to the main hall, our footsteps echoed through the dark room, and my palms began to sweat. Where did Elena sleep? What was I supposed to do next? Elena looked as distressed as I felt.

  “I can’t,” I suddenly said. I didn’t know what I meant. I can’t resist you? I can’t let myself fall into bed with you? I can’t hurt you like I did last time?

  Elena stopped walking and lightly touched my arm. “Come outside with me. I cannot be inside right now.”

  The warm air felt good as we stepped outside, but instead of reaching for a torch, Elena took my hand. “I know the garden well. We do not need light.”

  Moonlight filtered through the trees, turning the ground into patches of pale lace. God, was there anything more romantic than walking through a garden in the moonlight with the woman you loved?

  I licked my lips. “It’s been a long time, Elena. I know some things have changed, but—”

  “Kate, do you still—” She stopped, her voice hoarse and strained.

  Suddenly too hot to breathe, I loosened my shirt collar. “There has been no one, really, since...” My nervous fingers toyed with my necklace, now visible against my throat. “I know, though, that you...that you have—”

  “What is around your neck?”

  Nearly faint with fear, or desire, I couldn’t tell which, I swallowed hard, then dropped the necklace so she could see it. “My pearl. It’s my pearl.”

  Her soft gasp set me throbbing every place a woman can throb, then her uncertainty seemed to melt like butter in the sun, and she reached for me. Sparks flew in the dark as we met, red-hot and without control. Our lips devoured and burned as we wrapped ourselves around each other. I couldn’t breathe and relished the unbearable tightness in my chest. Tears formed when Elena kissed me with a strength as desperate as my own, then without another word our fingers struggled with laces and belts.

  “You came back,” she whispered, roaming from my lips to my now naked shoulder. “So much has happened.”

  “Yes,” I said, still not breathing right. “So much we haven’t yet talked about—”

  She covered my mouth with her own, and although I suddenly forgot what we needed to talk about, reason struggled to break through the passion. “Elena, while I’ve been away, I know some things have changed, but—”

  “Kate, my world is not the same as the one you left.” Her breath tickled my collarbone, and I grew weak under her hands. “Everything has changed.”

  “Yes, it has.” I stroked her back and slid my hand lower. “That’s why it would be foolish to act on any needs we might feel.”

  Elena took my face in her hands. “I agree. You and I are not foolish women.”

  My reply, totally inappropriate, was to kiss her long and hard.

  Elena finally broke away and chuckled. “We should go back inside.” She curved one hand around my waist and the other found my breast, which her strong fingers teased.

  “Sweet Jesus,” I muttered. My knees buckled against hers but she caught me in time. “You should stop,” I finally managed to whisper.

  “Yes, I should.” And somehow my blouse was open and her mouth was on my breast, and electricity shot through me as I arched against her. I should have stopped us right then, but at that point all reason fled, so I pulled her over behind the bushes and down into my arms, where we showed each other that one thing, at least, had not changed.

  *

  I awoke the next morning in Elena’s bed, happily ensnared in a tangle of warm, smooth limbs, unsure which were mine and not caring either way. When I shifted a hip, sore from making love in the garden at midnight, Elena stirred, and nuzzled against my neck. “I cannot believe you came back to me,” she murmured.

  Maybe we should have talked more before we gave in to our passions. I searched my mouth for a drop of saliva, but found only parched uncertainty. “We need to talk.”

  She groaned, then sat up, tossing off a wicked wink. “I’d forgotten how much you liked to talk.” She reached for her trousers, so I searched the floor for my skirt.

  “Elena, I have something to tell you that may be hard to believe.”

  She laced up her leather tunic over her shirt. “First, I prefer Luis. It has been eight years since anyone has called me by that other name. Second, you can travel between the present and the future. What could be harder to believe than that?”

  I tugged on the edge of my own tunic, then could find no other solution but to just begin. “Years ago, you asked me if Rodrigo would ever drive the Moors from the peninsula, as you had once hoped.”

  She froze, as if gripped by a pain I couldn’t see. “That is no longer important to me.”

  “In my history, Rodrigo Díaz, El Cid, rides into Valencia as its conqueror on June 15, 109
4, eighteen days from now. Folklore credits him with starting the four hundred year drive to expel the Moors from this country.”

  “It takes four hundred years? That is pathetic.”

  “Well, that’s another long story, but in my century, El Cid is a hero.”

  She tugged on her boots. “Rodrigo Díaz does not deserve to be a hero.”

  The sudden chill in her voice spiked my anxiety, but taking a deep breath, I plunged ahead, explaining about the change in the timeline, ending with Professor Kalleberg’s proof that lives were being snuffed out as history readjusted itself from century to century. “Rodrigo must control Valencia, not Ibn Jehaf or al-Rashid.” I stopped, suddenly unsure as the muscles along her jaw twitched. “Both my son and myself may disappear when the changes approach the twentieth century. We may cease to exist.” I waited, arms heavy at my side.

  Elena threw her traveling cloak over her shoulders, closed the clasp, then looked me in the eye. “Kate, you ceased to exist for me the day you disappeared right before my eyes in that cursed cave.” My breath caught at the pain in her voice. “You were there, and then suddenly, you were gone, as if I had dreamed my time with you.”

  “I have not stopped thinking about you for eight years,” I said softly.

  She didn’t smile. “I understand now why you have returned.” Her eyes froze hard like a high mountain lake when she realized the truth. “You are worried about your future and that of your child.” With my story, I drove away all the warmth we’d created between us.

  Before I could tell her I also came back to save her, her stiff back and tight mouth told me it was too late for this information. She wouldn’t believe me now. I ignored the twist in my heart. “Elen—Luis, Anna does something to alter history. She somehow sends Rodrigo away. He does not march into Valencia on June 15. The Moors, under al-Rashid, eventually consume the entire peninsula. It’s the exact opposite of what’s supposed to happen.” I stopped, watching as she crossed her arms. “I need your help. I must find out what Anna does. I must keep Rodrigo here. I must make sure he takes Valencia.”