by Noah
Caitlin paused before it, studying its ancient architecture, and couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps some clue lay for them inside.
"I wonder if we should go in?" Caleb asked, reading her mind.
She studied her ring’s inscription once again.
Across the bridge, Beyond the Bear.
"It mentions a bridge," she said, thinking.
“We just crossed a bridge," Caleb answered.
Caitlin shook her head. It didn't feel right to her.
"That was just a foot bridge. My instinct tells me this is not the place. Wherever it is we need to go, I don't feel it is here.”
Caleb stood there and closed his eyes. Finally, he opened them. "I don't feel anything either.
Let's move on.”
"Let's get closer to the river," Caitlin said. “If there's a bridge to be found, I assume it would be by the river. And I wouldn't mind some fresh air.”
She spotted a side road leading down to the riverfront, with a crudely marked sign that read "St.
Andrews Hill.” She took Caleb's hand and led him towards it.
They walked down the gently sloping road, and she could see the river in the distance, bustling with boat traffic.
This must be London’s famous Thames River, she thought. It had to be. She remembered at least that much from her basic geography class.
This street ended in a building, not taking them all the way down to the river, so they turned left on a street that ran close to the river, parallel to it, only fifty feet away, aptly named "Thames Street.” Thames Street was even more genteel, a world apart from Fleet Street. The houses were nicer here, and to their right, along the riverside, sat more grand estates, with huge plots of land sloping down to the riverfront. The architecture was more elaborate and more beautiful here, too. Clearly this part of town was reserved for the rich.
It felt like a quaint neighborhood, as they passed many twisting and turning side streets with funny names, like “Windgoose Lane” and “Old Swan Lane” and “Garlick Hill” and “Bread Street Hill.” In fact, the smell of food was in the air everywhere, and Caitlin felt her stomach growl. Ruth whined, too, and she knew she was hungry. But she didn't see any food for sale.
"I know, Ruth," Caitlin sympathized. “I'll find us food soon, I promise.” They walked and walked. Caitlin didn't know exactly what she was looking for, and neither did Caleb. It still felt as if the riddle could lead them anywhere, and they didn't have any concrete leads.
They were getting deeper into the heart of the city, and she still wasn't sure which way to turn.
Just as Caitlin was beginning to feel tired, hungry, and cranky, they came to a huge intersection.
She stopped and looked up. A crude, wooden sign read “Grace Church Street.” The smell of fish was heavy in the air here.
She stopped in exasperation and faced Caleb.
"We don't even know what we’re looking for," she said. "It mentions a bridge. But I haven't seen a single bridge anywhere. Are we just wasting our time here? Should we be thinking about this a different way?”
Caleb suddenly tapped her on her shoulder, and pointed.
She slowly turned, and was shocked at the sight.
Grace Church Street lead down to a massive bridge, one of the biggest bridges she had ever seen. Her heart soared with new hope. A huge sign above it read “London Bridge,” and her heart beat faster. This street was wider, a major artery, and people, horses, carts and traffic of all kind funneled onto and off the bridge.
If a bridge was truly what they were looking for, clearly they had found it.
*
Caleb took her hand and led her towards the bridge, merging with the traffic. She looked up, and was overwhelmed at the sight. It was unlike any bridge she had ever seen. Its entrance was heralded by a huge, arched gate, with guards on either side. At its top were multiple spikes, on which sat severed heads, blood dripping from their throats, impaled on the spikes. It was a gruesome sight, and Caitlin averted her gaze.
"I remember this," sighed Caleb. “From centuries ago. This is how they always adorned their bridges: with heads of prisoners. They do it as a warning to other criminals.”
"It's horrific," said Caitlin, as she lowered her head, and they walked quickly onto the bridge.
At the base of the bridge, booths and vendors were selling fish, and as Caitlin looked over, she could see boats pulling up, and workers carrying the fish up the muddy banks, slipping as they went.
The entryway to the bridge stank of fish, so much so that she had to hold her nose. Fish of every type, some still moving, were laid out on small, makeshift tables.
“Snapper, three pence a pound!" someone yelled out.
Caitlin hurried past, trying to get away from the smell.
As they went, the bridge surprised her again, as she discovered that it was filled with shops.
Small booths, vendors, lined the bridge on either side, as foot traffic, livestock, horses and carriages squeezed in the middle. It was a chaotic, crowded scene, with people calling out in every direction, selling their wares.
"Tannery here!" someone yelled out.
"We'll skin your animal!" yelled another.
“Candle wax here! The finest candle wax!”
“Roof thatching!”
“Get your firewood here!”
“Fresh quills! Quills and parchment!”
As they progressed further, there were nicer shops, some selling pieces of jewelry. Caitlin couldn’t help but think of the gold bridge in Florence, of her time with Blake, of the bracelet he had bought her.
Momentarily overwhelmed with emotion, she drifted off to the side, held onto the railing, and looked out. She thought of all the lifetimes she’d already lived, all the places she’d been, and felt overwhelmed. Was this all really true? How could one person have lived so many lives? Or would she just wake up from all of this, back in her apartment in New York City, and think that this had all just been the longest, craziest dream of her life?
"Are you okay?" Caleb asked, coming up beside her. "What is it?” Caitlin quickly wiped back a tear. She pinched herself, and realized that she was not dreaming. It was all real. And that was most shocking of all.
“Nothing," she said quickly, putting on a forced smile. She hoped he hadn’t been able to read her thoughts.
Caleb stood beside her, and together, they looked out, right down the middle of the Thames. It was a wide river, and completely congested with traffic. Sailboats of every size navigated their way through, sharing the waters with rowboats, fishermen’s boats, and every type of vessel. It was a bustling waterway, and Caitlin marveled at the size of all the different craft and sails, some climbing dozens of feet into the air. She marveled at how quiet the waters were, even with so many vessels in it. There were no sounds of engines, no motorboats. There was just the sound of the canvas flapping in the wind. It relaxed her. The air up here, with the constant breeze, was fresh, too, finally free of smells.
She turned to Caleb and they continued strolling back down the bridge, Ruth at their heels. Ruth started whining again, and Caitlin could feel her hunger, and wanted to stop. But everywhere she looked, she still could not find any food. She was getting hungrier herself.
As they reached the middle of the bridge, Caitlin was shocked, once again, at the sight before her. She didn't think that there’d be anything left to shock her after seeing those heads on the pikes—but this did.
Right there, in the center of the bridge, three prisoners stood up on a scaffold, nooses around their necks, blindfolded, barely clothed, and still alive. An executioner stood behind them, wearing a black hood, slits for his eyes.
"The next hanging is at one o’clock!” he screamed out. A thick and gathering crowd huddled around the scaffold, apparently waiting.
"What did they do?" Caitlin asked one of the crowd members.
"They were caught stealing, Miss," he said, not even bothering to look her way.
“One was cau
ght slandering the Queen!” an old lady added.
Caleb led her away from the gruesome sight.
“Watching executions seems to be a daily sport around here," Caleb commented.
“It's cruel," Caitlin said. She marveled at how different this society was from the modern day, at how much tolerance it had for cruelty and violence. And this was London, one of the most civilized places of 1599. She could hardly imagine what the world was like outside of a civilized city like this.
It amazed her how much society, and its rules, had changed.
They finally finished crossing the bridge, and as they stood at its base, on the other side, Caitlin turned to Caleb. She looked at her ring, and read aloud again: Across the Bridge, Beyond the Bear,
With the Winds or the sun, we bypass London.
"Well, if we’re following this correctly, we’ve just ‘crossed the bridge.’ Next would be ‘Beyond the Bear.’” Caitlin looked at him. “What could that mean?"
“I wish I knew," he said.
"I feel as if my father is close," Caitlin said.
She closed her eyes, and willed a clue to come along.
Just then, a young boy, carrying huge pile of pamphlets, hurried past them, shouting as he went.
"BEAR BAITING! Five pence! This way! BEAR BAITING! Five pence! This way!” He reached out and shoved a flyer into Caitlin's hand. She looked down, and saw, in huge letters, the words “Bear Baiting,” with a crude picture of a stadium.
She looked at Caleb, and he looked at her at the same time. They both watched the boy as he began to disappear down the road.
“Bear baiting?" Caitlin asked. “What's that?”
“I remember now,” Caitlin said. “It was the big sport of the time. They would put a bear in a circle, and tie him to a stake, and bait him with wild dogs. They take bets on who wins: the bear or the dogs.”
"That's sick," Caitlin said.
"The riddle,” he said. “‘Across the bridge, and Beyond the Bear. Do you think that could be it?” As one, they both turned and followed the boy, now off in the distance, still shouting.
They made a right at the base of the bridge and walked along the river, now on the other side of the Thames, heading down a street named "Clink Street." This side of the river, Caitlin noticed, was very different from the other. It was less built up, less populated. The houses were also lower here, more crude, this side of the river more neglected. There were certainly fewer shops, and thinner crowds.
They soon came upon a huge structure, and Caitlin could tell, from the bars on the window and the guards standing outside, it was a prison.
Clink Street, Caitlin thought. Aptly named.
It was a huge, sprawling building, and as they passed, Caitlin saw hands and faces sticking out of the bars, watching her as she went. Hundreds of prisoners were crowded in there, leering out at her, yelling crude things as they passed.
Ruth growled back, and Caleb came closer.
They walked further, passing a street with a sign that read “Dead Man's Place.” She looked to her right and saw another scaffold, with another execution being prepared. A prisoner, shaking, stood on a platform, blindfolded, a noose around his neck.
Caitlin was so distracted, she almost lost sight of the boy, as she felt Caleb grab her hand and guide her further down Clink Street.
As they continued, Caitlin suddenly heard a distant shout and then a roar. She saw the boy, in the distance, turn the corner, and heard another shout rise up. She then was surprised to feel the earth shake beneath her. She hadn't felt anything like that since the Roman Colosseum. She realized that there must be a huge stadium of some sort just around the bend.
As they turned the corner, she was astonished by the sight before her. It was a huge, circular structure, looking like a miniature Colosseum. It was built several stories high, and closed off from view, but in each direction there were arched doors leading into it. She could hear the shouts, louder now, clearly coming from behind its walls.
Before the building milled hundreds of people, some of the most seedy people she had ever laid eyes upon. Some were barely dressed, many had huge bellies sticking out, unshaved and unbathed.
Wild dogs roamed amidst them, and Ruth growled, the hairs on her back standing up, clearly on edge.
Vendors pushed carts in the mud, many selling pints of gin. From the looks of the crowd, it seemed most people partook. The crowd jostled each other roughly, and most of them looked drunk. Another roar rose up, and Caitlin looked up and saw the sign hanging over the stadium:
“Bear Baiting.”
She felt sick to her stomach. Was this society really so cruel?
The small stadium seemed to be part of a complex. There, in the distance, sat another small stadium, with a huge sign which read “Bull Baiting.” And there, off to the side, set apart from these two, was another large circular structure—although this one looked different from the others, classier.
"Come see the new Will Shakespeare play in the new Globe Theatre!" yelled out a passing boy, holding a stack of pamphlets. He walked right up to Caitlin, and shoved a pamphlet into her hands.
She looked down and it read: “the new play by William Shakespeare: The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet.”
"Will you come, Miss?" the boy asked. "It's his new play, and it's going to be performed for the first time in this brand-new theater: the Globe.”
Caitlin looked down at the pamphlet, feeling a rush of excitement. Could this be real? Was this really happening?
“Where is it?" she asked.
The boy chuckled. He turned and pointed. "Why, it's right over there, Miss.” Caitlin looked to where he was pointing, and saw a circular structure in the distance, with white stucco walls and a Tudor wooden trim. The Globe. Shakespeare's Globe. It was incredible. She was really here.
In front of it, thousands of people were milling about, entering from all directions. And the crowd looked just as rough as the crowd entering the bullbaiting and bearbaiting. That surprised her.
She had always imagined Shakespeare theatergoers to be more civilized, more sophisticated. She had never really considered that it was entertainment for the masses—and the crudest type of masses at that. It seemed to be right up there with bearbaiting.
Yes, she would love to see a new Shakespeare play, love to go to the Globe. But she felt determined to fulfill her mission first, to solve the riddle.
A new roar arose from the bearbaiting stadium, and she turned and focused her attention back on it. She wondered if the answer to the riddle lay just beyond its walls.
She turned to Caleb.
"What do you think?" she asked. “Should we see what it's about?” Caleb looked hesitant.
“The riddle did mention a bridge,” he said, “and a bear. But my senses are telling me something else. I'm not quite sure—”
Suddenly, Ruth growled, then took off, sprinting away.
"Ruth!" Caitlin yelled.
She was gone. She didn't even turn back to listen, and she sprinted for all she was worth.
Caitlin was shocked. She had never see her behave that way, even in times of utmost danger.
What could possibly pull her so much? She had never known Ruth not to listen.
Caitlin and Caleb broke into a sprint after her at the same time.
But even with their vampire speed, it was slow going through the mud, and Ruth was way faster than them. They watched her turn and weave through the masses, and they had to jostle their way to keep sight of her. Caitlin could see, in the distance, Ruth turn a corner, and sprinted down a narrow alleyway. She picked up speed, as did Caleb, pushing a big man out of her way as she did, and turned down the alleyway, after her.
What on earth could she be after? Caitlin wondered. She wondered if it were a stray dog, or if perhaps she had just reached a tipping point with hunger, and was chasing after a meal. She was a wolf, after all. Caitlin had to remind herself of that. She should have searched harder for food for her, and sooner.
/> But when Caitlin turned the corner and looked down the alley, she suddenly realized, with a shock, what it was.
There, at the far end of the alley, sat a young girl, maybe eight, in the dirt, cowering, crying, shaking. Towering above her was a large, beefy man, no shirt, his huge belly sticking out, unshaven, his chest and shoulders covered in hair. He wore an angry scowl, revealing his missing teeth, and he reached back with a leather belt and whipped the poor girl in her back, again and again.
"That's what you get for not listening!" the man screamed in a vicious tone, as he raised his belt again.
Caitlin was mortified, and without even thinking, she prepared to burst into action.
But Ruth beat her to it. Ruth had a head start, and as the man reached back his arm, Ruth sprinted and leapt into the air, opening her jaws wide.
She clamped down on the man's forearm and sunk her teeth all the way in. Blood sprayed everywhere, as the man shrieked an unearthly shriek.
Ruth was furious, and would not be appeased. She snarled and shook her head to and fro, tearing more deeply into the man’s flesh, and would not let go.
The man swung Ruth to and fro, only able to do so because of his considerable size and because she was still not yet a full-grown wolf. She snarled, and it was a sound scary enough to raise the hair even on the back of Caitlin’s neck.
But this man was clearly used to violence, and he swung his big beefy shoulder around and managed to slam Ruth against the brick wall. He then reached over with his other hand and whipped his belt down hard on her back.
Ruth shrieked and yelped. She finally let go, dropping to the ground.
The man, a look of hatred in his eyes, reached back with both hands, ready to bring his belt down with all his might on Ruth's face.
Caitlin sprang into action. Before the man could bring it down, she lunged forward, reaching out with her right hand, grabbing his throat. She drove him back, by the throat, lifting him up, off the ground, higher than her, until she slammed him into a wall, bricks crumbling.
