What had happened to my world? How could it have disappeared in the blink of an eye? Is it even possible? I was so confused! So many questions circling ‘round my brain, not wanting to put into words the one question that kept popping up over and over. Did I travel back in time? Time travel? But how? I remembered the phone in my pocket and pulled it out. It seemed so out of place. The screen stared back at me. Black. No power. No Google. No Siri. No YouTube. And no connection to my parents to find out where they were, or where I was. Oh my goodness, did they wonder where I’d gone? Were they frantically looking for me? So many questions and nowhere to turn for answers. Frustrated, I shook my stupid, useless phone in my hand and barely restrained myself from flinging it against a tree.
I heard a twig snap, and the footsteps of someone approaching. Slipping the phone back in my pocket, I wiped the tears off my face and hoped it didn’t look horrid. Sniffing, I looked up.
“Are you alright, m’moiselle?” Oh, perfect. Charles, just the person I did not want to see.
“What year is it?” I wanted to catch him off guard. He looked surprised alright.
“The year of our Lord 1518.” He said without hesitation.
OK, still not possible. I just couldn’t believe it, could not even wrap my brain around it. I looked around as if expecting someone to jump out with cameras shouting about how I’d been punked or something. Maybe it was all a setup? I fervently hoped. But no cameras. Not yet anyway.
“In answer to your earlier question. No, I do not believe I’m alright.” He seemed uncomfortable by this admission. I didn’t blame him. He cleared his throat and held out a bundle he’d been carrying, wrapped in what looked like a kitchen towel or piece of linen.
“Here,” he said, beckoning me to take it from him. “Mademoiselle Clermont suggested you might need some nourishment as you had not yet broken your fast today.”
I took the proffered bundle and opened it. Inside were a couple of slices of thick crusted bread, a chunk of delicious looking cheese, and a handful of big fat strawberries. Just looking at it made my stomach growl. I looked up to see him smile in response to my growling stomach.
“You don’t look quite so intimidating when you smile, you know. You should do it more often.” I broke off a piece of bread and a chunk of cheese, to nibble on. “Are you going to keep standing there casting a shadow, or are you going to sit?”
“It is not exactly proper for a prince, but under the circumstances…” He sat nearby continuing to watch me eat. Yeah, just a little unnerving.
“Well, I’ll never be royal.” I mumbled, chuckling over my own joke from the Lorde song I’d done a cover on. That was an understatement.
He just looked at me curiously. Which he seemed to do a lot in the last, what, twelve hours we’d known each other? “Why did you go running out of the castle? Did something or someone upset you?”
I sighed. How much of my predicament could I even confide to anyone? If I truly was in the 16th century, no one would believe me. If this whole thing was a trick, then I’d feel even more stupid than I already did.
“Yes, I was upset. But no one caused it. I simply realized that my parents will not be meeting me here for quite some time. Which means I am at the courtesy of this court and its hospitality until the time when they return. I’m fully prepared to entertain as promised last night.”
He nodded, taking in this information. “Did you receive a message from them?”
“Something like that,” I said. The fact that our rented townhouse, which was here yesterday, didn’t exist today seemed like a pretty strong message in my book.
“You know the king has already welcomed you here, so you have nothing to fear.”
I nodded. I was grateful, I really was. Because I needed time to figure out what had happened. And if I truly had traveled in time, I needed to figure out how to get back.
I offered Charles some of the food he’d brought out, and we sat in silence munching on grapes.
“Will you be ready to perform tonight for the king’s assembly?” he asked.
Shaking the crumbs off the linen and wiping my hands and mouth, I nodded.
“Well, if I am to be ready, I’d better start practicing.” I was eager to find solace once more in music. Music would get me through this mess and help me find my way out; I felt certain about that. I grabbed my skirts to move them out of the way so I could get up, but before I could even heave myself off the ground, Charles jumped up and reached for my hands, pulling me up effectively. He kept my hands in his for a moment longer and I could feel that strange current of what felt like electricity running through my arms and back down to my hands. What the heck was that? I looked at him, but he was looking at our hands, then up into my eyes in wonderment. I think he felt it too.
And the butterflies inside me beat their wings in double time.
Chapter 8
I took a deep breath in as I looked around the room. It was lit by candlelight, and I was glad not to have a big spotlight shining in my face. All around were mostly faces I didn’t recognize and some that were becoming familiar. There were the king and the queen sitting on their thrones, looking all regal as only nobility can. Although, I was beginning to think it was really just the chairs that made them seem more noble than the rest of us. Well, that and the crowns. Prince Charles stood beside his mother’s chair. Next to him was Genevieve of the Sour Face. OK, that’s my own description, not a real title, but hey, if the face fits and all that. A cluster of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting were next, most whose faces I could recognize as we’d sat together through dinner. They were mostly nice. Nicole was in the center of the pack, throwing an encouraging smile my way. She reminded me a bit of Anne, my dear friend I’d somehow left in the 21st century. If she were here, she’d be giving me the double thumbs-up sign. I skimmed around the rest of the room, nodding to the audience; some seated, some standing, all eyes on me. Slowly, I let out my deep breath and felt the calm wash over me. I looked down at the instrument sitting in front of me, what I would have called an antique harp. Except, as I’d learned, it was in perfect condition and had been made by commission of the king only a few years before. Here goes nothing, I thought. I lifted my hands from my lap, brushing the iPhone still in my pocket for luck, and placed them in the ready position on the harp. Then, I began to sing.
* * *
All day I had practiced in the music room with the various instruments, trying to accustom myself to each one. They were strange, fascinating and familiar all at once. I could see how they would evolve and become the instruments I knew how to play by heart. The harpsichord was easy enough, though it was small and didn’t have as many keys as the piano I was used to. It also had a funny, tinny-type sound. Not sure how else to describe it! But it was workable. I spent more time with the lute, and then the cittern and its sister the mandolin, then a really cool violone which was basically a stand-up bass. Some had more strings than I was used to, and some hadn’t been played in a long time, if ever, so I’d had to keep stopping to tune them.
However, it was the harp standing in the corner of the room that really drew my attention. Come on, a harp? How cool is that? I’d always wanted to play one, but it’s not exactly the type of instrument you take lightly. I was pretty sure I could figure out how to play it, though, knowing the piano. This harp wasn’t all gold and glittery like you imagine every harp is, or like the one’s you might see in an orchestra. This one was beautifully carved wood that seemed to flow with scrolls, leaves, and even a tiny cherub (you know those fat little babies with wings you see in paintings?). I didn’t know what kind of wood it was. Maybe cherry? It had sort of a reddish glow to it, and it was polished beautifully. It was about a medium size, not really tall, and as I sat down to figure out how to play it, I realized it was almost like playing a piano by its strings alone, without the keys hammering down on them. Instead, I had to use my fingers to do the work of the keys. With my left hand I could strum a chord, and with my right, I could pluck ou
t a tune. It was so amazing! Next, I had to figure out how to adapt a song I knew and be able to sing along to it without thinking too much about where my hands were on the harp. Not to mention, it couldn’t sound too modern. I mean, I certainly didn’t know any 16th-century music. I wondered if they even had popular music?
From what I remember my dad telling me, the musicians who traveled from castle to castle brought with them their own songs and told stories through the music. So I had to flip through the repertoire in my head to find a good storytelling song. For instance, I didn’t think “Payphone” by Maroon 5 or “Call Me Maybe” by Carly Rae Jepson were going to be well received in the 16th century. Can you imagine? I tried tune after tune, becoming frustrated at not finding the right one for the harp. Eventually I leaned my forehead on the cool wood of the harp, eyes closed, and hoped for inspiration of some sort. I was wondering, questioning, fighting the overwhelming feeling that I was all alone in this strange new, er, old world. Where were my parents? Anne? Zeke? And suddenly, I started picking strings with my right hand, and my left hand joined in. Then I was lost in the music and had no idea how long I’d been in that room, but jumped when the door swung open and I heard my name.
“Isabelle! Have you been in here all day?” It was Nicole. She was already in a different dress. How many times does a person need to change in one day? I thought. Glancing at the window, I noticed the light had changed and thought the sun must be setting. The room was near dark and I hadn’t even noticed.
“Nicole, what time is it? I seem to have lost track.”
“Why it’s time to get ready for dinner is what time it is!” She answered, sounding appalled. She snapped her fingers at me. “Come, quickly! We must get you dressed!” I’m pretty sure every sentence she uttered had finished with an exclamation point. She grabbed my arm as I neared her and linked it in her own as she led me out of the room. Ack, it felt good to walk. My legs felt numb from sitting for so long.
“Tell me,” Nicole started, “Do you feel ready to perform tonight? I cannot imagine doing such a thing. In front of all those people? No, no, no!” She shook her pretty curls back and forth emphasizing her horror at performing in public.
“Don’t worry,” I told her. “I think I’m ready. I’ve been performing for many, many years. I never think about the people I’m singing to. Just the story I’m trying to tell.”
“Oh I cannot wait to hear you tonight! After last nights performance? Oh my!” She fanned herself, just thinking about it. Then she started chattering on about how she passed the day bored to tears in the queen’s quarters doing some kind of cross stitch and watching Genevieve continually look toward the door hoping to be rescued by Charles. Who never came. So she sat angry and sullen until the queen dismissed them all for the day, telling them to take a turn in the gardens for air.
“You would not believe the conversation I had with Genevieve in the gardens!” she exclaimed.
“What do you know about this Isabelle Blanchett?” Nicole said, stifling a giggle while trying to imitate Genevieve’s voice. “I told her I didn’t know much. Which, my dear,” she stopped and patted my arm, “we’ll have to remedy immediately. I do hope we’ll be great friends!”
“I can’t imagine another person I’d like to be friends with,” I told her honestly. Which made her smile and bounce and give me a big hug.
“Oooh, I knew it the minute I saw you!” She could hardly contain her excitement, and I’ll admit, it was infectious. I was glad she wanted to be my friend; I so needed one right now.
“Anyway,” she went on as we continued walking down the corridor again, “she was as jealous as can be I can tell you that!” This time I tried to keep track of where we were going so I could make it back to the music room when I needed to.
“Why in the world would she be jealous? She has nothing to be jealous of!” I asked incredulously. I mean come on, I’d only been here what, not even twenty-four hours?
“Truly, did you not see the way Charles looked at you last night?” Nicole went on.
“That again? No, you have it all wrong. He doesn’t trust me. That is why he looks at me like he does.”
“Oh no, that’s not what I saw. Believe me, I know Charles.” She was obviously going to believe what she wanted to believe here. “Also, when I found him this noon and told him you were in distress, he didn’t even think twice. Off he went to find you like a man who’s been smitten!”
Oh dear. This was getting embarrassing again. Smitten? Do people become smitten? What does that even mean?
“Again,” I tried explaining as if I were talking to a child, “he probably came out looking for me because he thought I was snooping around the castle or something. He thinks I’m a spy, Nicole. He told me himself that he doesn’t trust traveling musicians. Add the fact that I show up here with no parents and no belongings to my name. Well, I admit, if I were in his position, I’d be suspicious too. Although...” I suddenly remembered that brief second in the orchard when he held my hands and we looked at each other in wonderment. I could feel that shock in my arms just thinking about it and it sent shivers down my spine.
“What?” Nicole inquired. “Although what?” She crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently when I didn’t immediately reply.
“Oh nothing,” I told her, trying to brush it off. Seriously, it was really nothing. Right?
“That’s not nothing!” She wasn’t giving up. “You don’t get that dreamy look on your face and shiver over nothing!” She looked around the hallway to make sure we weren’t being overheard. There were people bustling all about, going to and fro, lighting candles and wall sconces, taking wood to the fireplaces. From far off I could smell the faint scent of food wafting from the kitchens. Which only made me realize I was crazy hungry. I hadn’t eaten since noon out in the orchard. With the prince. I really needed to stop thinking about him. Nicole motioned to be quiet and we walked quickly until we reached my room. She opened the door, checked to make sure no one was in it, shut the door, and then whirled on me.
“Alright, now. Every detail!” She pulled me to the chairs in front of the fire, which seemed to have recently been lit, lighting up the room.
“Wait, don’t I have to get dressed for dinner?” I tried a stalling tactic. Looking around the room, I really didn’t know what I was going to get dressed into. Maybe my dress from last night?
“Pshaw,” she said, waving a hand in front of her face. “Marie will be here momentarily to dress you. Right now,” she said, leaning forward, “I must know if the prince looked at you again like he did last night. Surely you won’t deny me that detail?”
“Well,” I hesitated. I really didn’t know how he looked at me last night. I had to think about it. I conjured up his face in my mind. Oh man, he really was startlingly good looking. Good thing he had a horrible personality. I remembered him looking at me with an annoyed face, a face of distrust, that classic sour face (maybe he and Genevieve really were made for each other). But then, when I actually thought about it, there was that gaze of deep blue eyes on an unreadable face in the music room and then the face of wonderment in the gardens. Ack, my heart did a little double-tap. I don’t know what that was, but I’m sure it was nothing. It had to be nothing. I shook my head.
“To be honest,” I continued saying to Nicole (I had to tell her something at any rate), “as I said this morning, he is very nice to look at. But I’m afraid that’s about all where I’m concerned. I told you, I have a beau back home.”
“Oh, yes!” Nicole exclaimed. Again. “You must tell me about him. Are you engaged to be wed? What is he called? Is he a prince as well?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. His name is Zeke. And no, we are not getting married.” I was going to add, who gets married at age sixteen? But then I remembered that sixteen was a very marriageable age in this century. Then a stab of pain hit me somewhere in my mid-section just thinking about Zeke. Were we in a parallel universe? Was he even alive yet? These sorts of questions onl
y gave me a headache as I had no way of finding the answers.
“Well then,” Nicole waved her hand away as if swatting a fly, “you’re not promised to anyone, which means all is fair in love and war.”
“Nicole!” I was shocked. “You can’t be serious. Why does all this matter anyway? Why don’t you fall in love with the prince?”
“Me?” she asked, mirroring my shock. Then she broke out laughing. “Oh dear. I must have forgotten to mention a small detail. I am the prince’s cousin! Granted, we could marry someday should the king decide, but that would not be advantageous for France. Anyway, we have been as brother and sister since we were but children. I like to tease him relentlessly, and I confess, I cannot abide Genevieve in the least! If he marries her, she will ruin him, I am sure.” Just then, Marie knocked and entered the room, a beautiful gown held out in her arms.
“Pardon m’moiselles, would you like me to dress you for dinner?” She said with a curtsy.
“Yes, yes, come in.” Nicole ushered her in and took the gown from her arms to hold up and show me. “Look Isabelle, won’t this gown be beautiful with your hair?”
It was beautiful. A shimmery gold fabric flickered in the light from the fire. The dress was a showstopper for sure. I had to admit, I was kind of excited to wear it. And yes, a little part of me wondered how the prince would look at me in such a dress. Even though I shouldn’t be thinking that way. Not at all.
“Is this another one of yours?” I asked Nicole.
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