by Renee Duke
“They made me walk,” said Paige.
“Only about a mile,” Mr. Marchand protested.
“A very steep mile.”
“Which you will have to traverse again. On a snowpack. The buses don’t run in the winter, and you know your brother won’t go for horse-drawn transport. He thinks it’s cruel. Wouldn’t even go for it the first time. ‘Poor horsies,’ he said, ‘Poor horsies.’”
“I agree with him,” said Zach.
“And I,” said Alina.
Paige sighed. “Me too. So I guess we walk.”
“Might as well get started. The crew has.” Mr. Marchand nodded toward the path leading up to the castle, which his people were already on, toting their cameras and other equipment in backpacks. “Was there a café open for them to grab a coffee, Jeff?” he called out to his assistant.
The young man laughed. “All arranged beforehand. Couldn’t expect the troops to make that climb without fortification.”
“You kids can fortify yourselves, too, if you like,” said Mr. Marchand. “Unless you’d rather wait until you’re at the castle. I can get a thermos of hot chocolate for you before I go up.”
“That would be best,” said Zach. “We will be much colder then than now.”
“Yeah, those guys just wanted coffee so they could get a caffeine fix,” said Paige.
Aunt Emma smiled. “I want one, too. But from tea. Would you also like some tea before we start up the mountain?” she asked her cousins.
“That sounds lovely,” said Mrs. Marchand.
Paige’s eyebrows shot up in mock disbelief. Their parents rarely let them go off on their own in strange places. Or even familiar ones. “You mean you’re not going to stay with us? You’re going to let us hike up there, alone and unprotected, for the sake of a hot cup of tea?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Marchand, Aunt Augusta, and Uncle Gareth said together.
“We will not be alone,” said Zach. “My father will be with us. Always Vati tries to beat us to the top. When we were a little younger, he let us win. Now we win anyway.”
“Not this time,” said Uncle Horst. “Those big packs will slow you down.”
He took off at a run, his children stumbling along in pursuit.
“You want to race us, Dad?” Dane asked Mr. Marchand.
“No. Horst’s younger than me Got more stamina. I’ll be along in a bit. Either you or Gareth will have to go up, too, Gus. Jack has to have a guardian on site. Unless, since I’m his uncle, you want to put me in charge of him.”
“Consider him yours. I want tea and comfort. And I don’t think Gareth should do the climb.”
Uncle Gareth had had some trouble with his heart back in the summer. Thanks to a careful diet and a mild exercise programme, he had lost some weight and was now in quite good shape, but Aunt Augusta still didn’t like him to do anything too strenuous. And while he did not always bow to her concerns, he did on this occasion.
“I’m inclined to agree,” he said. “The slog up aside, I feel safer down here, where no one can hound me into going out onto that wretched bridge for a better look at the castle.”
Jack and his cousins exchanged grins. The Marienbrücke, or Mary’s Bridge, offered the best view of Neuschwanstein Castle, but the gorge it spanned was deep and Uncle Gareth didn’t like heights.
“The Marienbrücke is often closed off in winter,” said Aunt Emma.
“Oh? Pleased to hear it. But I’ll still be staying down here for the duration.”
“Just as you like,” said Mr. Marchand. “You kids better catch up with the others. The crew and I will struggle along with the necessary gear and meet you in the courtyard. I’ve obtained permission to film there. Not inside, of course. Das ist verboten.”
Aunt Emma raised her eyebrows. “I did not know you spoke German, Alan.”
“High school stuff. My teacher claimed the most important phrase to know was, ‘Wo ist das Badezimmer?’”
“Well, the location of the nearest loo is sometimes paramount,” said Uncle Gareth.
The children laughed and set off after Zach and Alina.
Chapter Four
When they got to the castle path, the two young Germans were still in view, but no longer seemed to be trying to overtake Uncle Horst.
“Guess they’re not going to win the race this time,” Dane said as they started their own ascent. “He’s got too good a lead.”
“And there’s not much point in us trying to catch up to them,” said Paige. “It’s too slippery to go fast, and these packs are bulky. Modern ones are way more streamlined.”
The climb was definitely easier in summer and was not, at that early hour, being attempted by anyone not connected to Mr. Marchand’s project. Paige and the boys frequently stopped to rest, taking a final break just short of a bend Zach and Alina had already passed.
“I’m freezing,” said Jack, stamping his feet, and blowing on his mitt-enclosed hands. “Perhaps we should do a time transfer. We might fetch up in a more hospitable season.”
He looked at Dane, who was the one wearing the medallion.
“Think this might be a good place for it?” Dane inquired. “I mean, are you getting some kind of feeling?”
Jack was a diviner, someone who intuitively knew things about the medallion and its workings. Grantie Etta was one, too, and even Dane had experienced some animal-related revelations at a time when Jack’s receptivity had been temporarily blocked.
“I suppose I am, a bit,” Jack affirmed.
Dane checked behind them to ensure there was no one else on that particular stretch of road. “Let’s go for it, then,” he said. “Unless…well, what about Zach and Alina? They’re great kids, and the medallion’s part of the whole family’s heritage. We could wait until we could take them with us.”
Jack nodded. “It does seem a bit unfair not to include them.”
“Unfair?” Paige stepped explosively into her usual role of pointing out drawbacks to ill-conceived notions. “Have you guys forgotten that we don’t just jump into other eras for fun? We do it to help kids in trouble. Which, if you’ll recall, someone doesn’t want us to do. And he can get pretty nasty about it. Being been barred from making direct contact with us won’t keep him from trying to move against us in some way. It wouldn’t be right to put Zach and Alina in danger as well.”
“No, I guess not,” Dane conceded.
“I doubt we could take them with us anyway,” Paige went on. “They weren’t in on working out how to use the medallion. Being shown how to work it instead of figuring it out for themselves was the reason our mums weren’t able to time-travel when they were our age. The medallion didn’t do anything when they tried to make a time trip with Uncle Trevor. Even though he’d used it before, it didn’t take him into the past and leave Mum and Aunt Augusta in the present. None of them went anywhere. And we might not either if Zach and Alina were with us.”
“But Uncle Trevor didn’t want to go anywhere,” said Jack. “Having been traumatized by his first trip, he wasn’t all that eager to try another.”
“He went on that trip by accident, and was way too young. Suddenly landing in the midst of a bunch of Ancient Britons trying to annihilate each other would have freaked out any preschooler.”
“He was willing to come back with us to Skookaweethp’s time,” said Dane. “And would have if we hadn’t had to go without him.”
“Only because he thought he had to,” said Paige. “Zach and Alina don’t have to, and we’re not taking them. Agreed?” The boys nodded. “Good. Then let’s change over to our other coats and boots. If we find ourselves in less frigid temperatures, we can always put them in our packs. They’re big enough to hold everything. You going to keep your glasses on, Dane, or switch to contacts?”
“I’ll keep them on. Dad says my style of glasses is era-appropriate and I don’t want to have to hunt about in the snow if I happen to drop a contact.”
After taking off their sweat pants and exchanging their coats and
boots, the three shouldered their rucksacks and clasped hands while Dane recited the connecting rhyme.
“Ancient portal, hear this plea,
Open for thy golden key.
Feel its power.
Know its might.
Put the mists of Time to flight!”
The medallion was particular about where it took them, but the appearance of mist and sparks indicated this trip was on its ‘Approved’ list.
Materializing in the same place as they had been in their own time, they could see the castle path still had some snow on it. There was not as much, however, and the air was not nearly as cold.
“No people in sight,” said Dane, looking back down the path. “I wonder what time of year it is. And what year it is.”
“Feels like early spring,” said Paige. “We’ll probably be too hot in these coats, but too cold without them. We—”
She broke off upon hearing frightened cries coming from around the bend.
A child’s cries.
“Come on!” yelled Dane, dropping his rucksack and propelling himself forward.
By far the fastest runner of the three, he was the first to hurtle around the bend. Up ahead of him, he could see a girl who appeared to be just a bit younger than Jack. She was standing at the side of the path, her attention focused on a point some way down a steep slope, an unreadable look on her face. Frustration? Indecision? Possibly even annoyance? Whatever it was, it wasn’t panic over the plight of a smaller girl, who had obviously tumbled down the slope and was now clinging to a bush.
“Hilf mir, Marta,” she wailed. “Hilf mir.”
Dane didn’t have to speak German to know she was calling to the other girl, presumably named Marta, for help. There were no other people on the path, and though the castle was in view, it was still some distance away.
“Are there any grown-ups around?” he asked, coming to a halt in front of this Marta, and realizing, even as he spoke, that she probably couldn’t understand him.
But, much to his surprise, she did.
“At the castle,” she said, in English, but with a heavy German accent. “Too far. She fall more before they come.”
“Not if we can help it,” Paige said as she and Jack came hurrying up.
“Think we can get down to her?” Dane asked his sister.
“We have to. But it would be easier if we had a rope. Your pack—”
“I’m on it.”
Dane whirled around and set off at a run.
“There’s a First Aid kit in mine,” Paige yelled after him. “Get it, too. Front pouch.”
As Dane swerved round the bend, he was startled to find a boy kneeling beside their abandoned rucksacks, hastily removing the rope from his. A slender, dark-complexioned, boy close to his own height, but whom he judged to be at least a year younger.
Pulling the rope free the boy said, “I saw. I heard. I have it. Follow me.”
Like Marta, he spoke in English, but with much less of an accent.
Nodding assent, Dane retrieved the First Aid Kit and sped after him. By the time he got back to the others, the boy was making a loop at one end of the rope while Paige tied the other end to a sturdy tree growing near the edge of the path.
The boy then removed a shabby, threadbare coat, beneath which he wore a somewhat thicker, but quite matted sweater. His boots and long tweed pants had also seen better days, and his belt was a man’s belt, long enough to wrap around him twice.
After slipping the loop end of the rope over his head and under his arms the boy tugged on it to make sure the tree end would hold secure.
“You will pull once I have her?” he inquired, although it sounded more like a command.
“Yes,” said Dane.
The boy lowered himself over the edge of the path and cautiously inched down the slope. With the other children clustered anxiously above, he made his way to the little girl. Though her face was mostly obscured by the bush, she appeared to be following his progress closely, and emitted only an occasional whimper.
Upon reaching her, he braced himself against a rock and took off his belt, which he placed around her and fastened in such a way that she, too, was attached to the rope. Something she was clutching in her hand was caught on the bush, but desperate for help though she must have been, she refused to relinquish it. Once he had worked it free and pocketed it, she clung to him with both hands.
“We are ready,” he called up to the others, who stationed themselves along the tree end of the rope. Pulling with all their might, they started to haul the little girl and her rescuer back up the slope.
The boy managed to find footholds to help with the ascent, and before long, the two were back on the path.
As soon as the boy freed her from the belt, the little girl turned toward the girl called Marta. It was at that point that Paige, Dane, and Jack could see she had some of the flat facial features common to people with Down Syndrome, a congenital disorder that caused varying degrees of mental and physical impairment. Unlike Marta, who was blonde and blue-eyed, she had brown hair and slightly slanted hazel eyes, eyes that looked at Marta imploringly as she held out her arms and stepped toward her.
Marta, however, stepped back. She snapped out something in German that caused the younger girl to drop her arms, her bottom lip quivering. It also caused the German boy’s eyebrows to rise, and Jack’s jaw to clench, but neither said anything.
Unsure what was going on, but very sure the little girl wanted to be comforted, Paige gave her a hug before looking at her injuries. Thankfully, these only amounted to a few cuts and bruises, so she gave the child another hug and stroked her cheek before applying adhesive bandages to the worst gashes, saying over and over, “It’s okay. You’re all right. You’re safe now.”
“She does not understand you,” said Marta.
Her repair job complete, Paige straightened up. “She understands my tone. Are you her sister?”
Marta hesitated a moment, then nodded. “My name is Marta. Marta Reitzel. She is Hannelore. Hani.”
“Paige Marchand. This is my brother, Dane, and cousin, Jack Taisley.” She turned to the, as yet, unidentified boy.
“I am called Nicko.”
“You speak very good English, Nicko,” said Jack.
“My mother is English. As are you, I think?”
Jack nodded. “We’re here on holiday.”
“Ah, yes,” said Nicko, shrugging back into his coat. “Many English come here for holidays. That makes English a useful language to know, so my mother has always spoken to us in English as well as German and Romani.”
Marta glared at him. “English is not so hard. In my family also, all can speak. Even she, a few words knows. My grandfather is a teacher of English.”
“Down in the village?” Dane asked.
“In München.”
“Is that where you live?”
“Nein. In Unterammergau, near the, perhaps, to you, more famous, Oberammergau. We come here today for Hani. It is her Geburtstag. Her birthday. To be here is a birthday…a birthday…”
“Treat?” Paige suggested.
Marta gave a curt nod, obviously annoyed at having to be told the word.
Paige turned her attention back to Hani. “Wow! So, today’s your birthday, Hani. Your Geburtstag. How old are you?”
“Would you translate that for her?” Jack asked Nicko, earning himself an odd look from Paige and Dane and a frown from Marta, who probably felt the request should have been made to her.
Nicko repeated the question in German.
“Sieben,” Hani replied with a timid smile.
“Is that seven?”
Nicko nodded and said something else to Hani, whose smile widened. “I told her that one of my sisters will also be seven later this year.”
“My birthday is sooner,” said Marta. “Three weeks. In three weeks I will be neun. Nine. If I had been born but one day earlier, my birthday would the same as the Führer’s be.” Her face suddenly became animated. “O
n the birthday of the Führer, there is much celebration. At that time, many girls the Führer’s Jungmädel become. Next year, I can a Jungmädel become.”
“How long has the Führer been, well, the Führer?” asked Paige, seeking to establish what year they were in.
“The official title is Reich Chancellor of Germany,” said Nicko. “The other is not yet official, but many use it for Herr Hitler.”
“As they should,” Marta said vehemently. “My Onkel Gottfried say Adolf Hitler will be the salvation of Germany and therefore should the Supreme Leader be. Already, after but a year and some months, life is much better.”
“For some,” said Nicko.
“For a Zigeuner, it would not. All know Zigeuner like not work, and all must work if Germany is to again be great.”
“Zigeuner?” Dane repeated.
“The English word is Gypsy,” said Nicko. “As with Germans, English-speakers use one word for all, though we are not the same. There are Sinti, and there are Roma. My family are Si—”
“Zigeuner. Just Zigeuner,” Marta broke in contemptuously. “Zigeuner all. No difference. All are dirty, lazy, troublemakers who all the time lie, cheat, and steal.”
“That’s an awful thing to say,” a shocked Dane remonstrated.
“Especially since Nicko here just saved your sister’s life,” said Paige, bristling with indignation.
“For what he could gain.” Marta scowled. “He knows my father will a reward give. And if he does not, already he has my bracelet. A most valuable bracelet. All gold.”
Nicko’s look of contempt easily matched Marta’s own as he reached into his pocket and withdrew the object that had been caught on the bush. The bracelet was, as the three Time Rose Travellers all immediately suspected it would be, a Keeper Piece. They had even seen this particular one before, when they were in the fifteenth century. At that time, it had been the plaything of an infant prince.
Nicko held the bracelet out to Marta. “It was better to carry it so than to perhaps drop it. Or your sister.”
“How did your bracelet get down there?” Dane inquired as Marta snatched it back and slipped it onto her left wrist.
