Juno Beach, Normandy, March 12th, 1096 A.D.
Wow. Of all the places we could’ve jumped to, the dawning of the first Crusade wasn’t at the top of my fair-weather list. The weather was actually not bad on the shores of Normandy but the scene before us could’ve been a tad less foreboding, as it were.
The beach was packed with the people of the Middle Ages, standing shoulder to shoulder while they all looked toward the makeshift stage set up in the center of the throng of men, women and children who were all mesmerized by the sole occupant of the wooden planks. The stooped individual happened to be Peter the Hermit, one of the most influential speakers France had to offer when it came to making lords, barons and dukes leave everything behind to join the Crusade.
The Hermit was really getting into his sermon on the morals of Christians and that it was our very God-given right to save the Holy Land from the heathens, he called them, while waving at the enormous wooden cross that he brought with him on his campaigns for troops.
Actually, if not for the inconvenient slaughtering of three-thousand pilgrims in Jerusalem, the preaching of Peter the Hermit and Pope Urban II’s supposed vision from God that included, but was not limited to, lots of dead Turks and heathens, the first Crusade wouldn’t have happened.
We ended up landing away from the spectacle and I immediately checked the gauntlet, told the girls the date and also that we had almost seven hours to burn before I asked Chloe, “How the helheim was Klaus able to find us?”
Chloe sat on a nearby stump and shrugged. “I’m not one-hundred percent sure but I remember my father saying that men weren’t meant to jump from time to time so the effects it leaves, although they aren’t harmful to anyone, can be traced.”
Sighing, I sat beside her on the large stump, “Well, isn’t that just peachy?” Then I remembered, “Klaus knows everything about me. He said he got your father to talk.”
“He won’t kill him,” Chloe said, sounding like she was trying to convince herself instead of me. “His research is worth too much to Klaus now to have him killed.”
“How was he able to bring troops with him? I thought only my gauntlet could do that?”
Chloe shrugged again, not looking at me. “I just don’t know, Jericho. Nothing makes sense to me, anymore.”
Piper was watching the vehement sermon with curiosity, “What is he talking about?” She asked.
The Hermit was, in fact, speaking plain English, his voice thick with a French accent as he explained aggressively just why staying here was not only craven, but against the will of God. Upon stating this over half the mob, no doubt smitten by the Hermit’s words, screamed out, “GOD WILLS IT!”
I had forgotten that Piper couldn’t speak English. Back in Flagstaff, I had imprinted every language I could think of so I would’ve been good if Peter the Hermit had been speaking slang Cantonese mixed with Arabic. “He’s trying to convince all these people to either pick up a sword and go to Jerusalem or drop their coins into his coffers to support the valiant men already fighting in the name of God.”
“Thor?” She asked, frowning.
“No, Piper, this God actually exists,” I told her, scanning the crowd.
Chloe looked at me incredulously, like she couldn’t believe I’d just said that to a pagan from birth. Noticing her stare of unbelief, I said, “We’ve already had this conversation on the second week of our long fishing trip. She’s cool with it.”
Nodding in agreement, Piper added, “Thor never died for anyone. So a god dying for the whole world is most impressive.”
Smiling, I said, “Don’t get too zealous, Pipe. This entire body of people is already zealous enough, which means that if they heard you speaking a different language, they’d probably burn you at the stake. Actually, try not to speak the rest of the time we’re here, sweetheart, because I’m getting tired of saving chicks like a freakin’ mother hen. Just saying.”
After we’d sat and watched the rather long sermon, (these guys weren’t your everyday one-hour-service kind of folks, it seemed), Chloe asked me, “Why did you come here in the first place?”
We were all lined up on the large stump with me in between them as I explained that I’d come because I was checking to see if William the Conqueror’s son, Robert, was here. I also told them that the books had him in Normandy but were a tad vague as to when, where and why.
“…also, he was supposedly so poor when he departed for the Holy Land that it was said he had one change of clothes and no money at all. That’d be something to see, wouldn’t it? A king with nothing to his name.” I said, dreamily.
“A king with nothing is just a man,” Piper decided to throw in, busting my bubble.
I glanced at her. “Try telling these people that,” I said, “And I suppose he wasn’t exactly the king, even though by birthright he should’ve been. At any rate who wants to help me find the long lost duke?” I asked, smiling broadly at them.
“Do you even know what he looks like?” Chloe asked while giving the rather large crowd a doubtful glance.
“Not exactly,” I said, following her gaze to the large throng of zealous people. “But I’ve met his dad once so let’s hope he doesn’t look like his mother, Matilda.”
Piper and Chloe looked at each other. “You want to?” Piper asked with a shrug.
Sighing loudly, which was something Chloe had been doing a lot lately, she stood and stretched. “Might as well. This stump is killing my butt.”
“Awesome.” I said while trying to contain as much of my glee as I could. I also contained in a sarcastic comment that sounded something like, “Like some of your butt dying would be a problem.”
But I didn’t. See? I am getting more tolerable, huh?
And, uh, since I hadn’t ever, you know, checked out Chloe’s butt, or anything, I, uh, couldn’t exactly say one way or another whether…
Ahem. So, uh, yeah- there we were in 1096 looking for Robert Curthose.
…And if I had to choose, Piper’s body was way more-
Why am I telling you this? Geez, just leave me the helheim alone, will you? I’m trying to tell a story here, in case you haven’t noticed. So ease up on the girl talk, whoever-you-are.
Between Chloe’s black leather jumpsuit from 2340, Piper’s Viking garb from 794, and my mix-match of both of those eras and a little 2012 thrown in with my black Chuck’s, we looked the part of a bunch of random time-traveling bums. So after I let my female companions know that a change of clothes was in order, we approached some of the outer tents that bordered the multitude and went on the prowl.
We split up and ended up robbing whatever we wanted due to everyone being riveted by Peter the Hermit. Since I wasn’t exactly feeling like a pilgrim on my way to the Holy Land, I wasn’t just looking for random clothes that fit. I figured since I had to be there for six and a half more hours, looking awesome was my top priority. So after I’d searched a few unoccupied tents, I hit the mother lode.
I made sure neither of the girls were in earshot before I let my nerd free and began jumping around like an idiot while I grabbed at all the armor and weapons that were adorning a wooden mannequin on the far side of the large tent. It took me about ten minutes to put it all on because most knights wearing amazing suits of armor like this normally had about three servants helping them into it.
It. Was. Awesome.
Whoever the owner of the expensive armor was also liked to look at himself because there was a full-length mirror on one side of the tent that I used for my final inspection of the armor that fit like a dream.
The cuirass, gauntlets, paldrons, greaves, poleyn and boots were all shiny silver with a golden stripe which matched the great helm, which had an aventail, with a golden cross on the face of it. It was so light as I swung my arms around feeling the movement ratio. It was superb, by the way. The mail worn underneath it all was also not very heavy and I was beginning to think that I was sporting a prototype since I thought that all medieval armor was mega heavy.
The sword was a hand-and-a-half sword, or as it was referred to by the medieval owners, a bastard sword. The name sort of originated because it wasn’t a one-handed sword nor was it a two-handed one even though most were heavy enough to require the use of both hands--more so for normal sized dudes from the 21st century- which is why I left the shield behind as I exited the tent, clasping the long white cape to the shoulder guards.
I have to admit I looked like something out of an rpg game rather than something real out of 1096. This may have not been the case had I not still wore both gauntlets of time on my hands, making me look wickedly bodacious. They also matched really nice, too, so sue me.
I clanked away from the tent feeling like a hero with my right hand on the jeweled pommel of the sword at my waist as I went to see if the girls had found anything to trump my Crusader getup.
“My kingdom for a horse,” I said, upon my entrance to the tent that held the girls. I’m glad I had my helm under one arm for a lot of reasons. The first being that Chloe wasn’t exactly dressed and that her screaming at me to get out while throwing a candlestick at me was better than if she’d thought I was someone else. Not sure how but you never know.
Doing a twirl in mid step, I left the tent that smelled like roses and waited outside.
“Would it kill you to knock?” Chloe muttered from behind the canvas while Piper laughed out loud at my blundering entrance.
“Perhaps,” I said, pacing. “Would it kill you to not run about naked? I told you these people were zealous, didn’t I?”
Piper came out of the tent then and my mouth dropped open when I saw her walking out in a long red silk dress that almost touched the ground with semi-puffed short sleeves that looked good with her toned pale arms.
“You do know that if someone sees you in that you’d be burnt at the stake for sure,” I said, “Lucky for you and your gypsy sister in there you’ve both met me, a valiant holy knight who has swayed you both into my beliefs and you are now both Christians.”
Piper looked down at her dress then back up to me, “Really?”
Nodding I said, “Yep. Funny how that works, isn’t it?”
Chloe walked out and my mouth dropped open again, “What is this, VH1’s I heart the 1090s?”
Her dress looked about the same as Piper’s except it was black and sort of a halter top. Hmm. I didn't know they had those back then. Placing a hand on a hip, Chloe narrowed her eyes. “I don’t want to hear it, Sir Chicago. There aren’t many women’s clothes around here, if you haven’t noticed.”
“Like wearing boy clothes has ever been an issue for you, commander-major-captain-whatever from Russian boot camp,” I said.
“Whatever,” Chloe said. “We look amazing and you know it.”
“I don’t have time for the Crusade’s Next Top Model, Chloe. You two just stay close behind me.” I said, turning on my heel and clanking away from them as they fell in step behind me.
“So you think we look like models?” Chloe asked, nudging Piper and smiling secretly at her. Except Vikings don’t know what models are so all she got in return was a small frown from Piper.
We traversed out of the cluster of tents and headed around the people who seemed to still be having church and shouting God wills it to the top of their lungs. For once it seemed Chloe had listened to me as she and Piper walked close behind me as we avoided the crowd and headed for the rather small town of Juno.
I wasn’t sure what we were supposed to do once we were inside but figured anything would beat the heck out of watching Peter the Hermit swindle men out of their lives and coins with his sermon. We entered the town through the stone gateway and found that the rather spacious little city was bustling with life even though it looked like every living soul within miles was listening to the loud preaching just outside.
“These must be the ones that only show up on Easter,” I joked to my companions. “For once when they say that they’re not going due to all the hypocrisy they’re actually right.”
We crossed the street to one side and began passing by all the local vendors who were selling everything from meat on a stick, linen, livestock and even women. I waved off all the vendors with ease due to my armor.
And maybe because I already had two women right behind me. I'm not sure. The progression of men and women selling their wares lasted a while but we finally reached the end and turned on the next street.
Piper seemed to be having a good time, strangely, as she looked left and right, shaking her head at the vendors to their furs and strange meats. I guess I must've been watching her because she glanced at me quickly and caught me.
I was about to drop my gaze like the idiot I was when she surprised me with a wink and a smile.
Piper was, in a word, persistent. I know I hadn't exactly given her the answer she'd been wanting to hear back in Svalbard but that didn't seem to be deterring her in the quest for my affections.
And, man, but was she doing a good job.
Sad part was she wasn't trying that hard, now that I think about it.
“These will look lovely in your beautiful hair, lass,” an older flower-woman said to Piper, holding out a small white flower to her.
“She doesn't speak English, marm,” I told her. “But I agree. How much for the flower?”
“Nothing for her, sir,” The old woman cackled. Her black hooded garb didn't look the cleanest but she seemed like a nice enough elderly person.
Piper took the flower and nodded to the old woman as we passed by. Chloe wasn't exactly living in the moment so most of the vendors that tried to get her attention didn't even merit a glance.
Too bad. A white flower would've looked good it her jet black hair, I would wager.
If that sounded bad to you because I seems like I was leading Piper on so I could keep my 'options' open, as it were, then you can stop right there. I would never do such a thing...
...to a girl who can decapitate polar bears with one swing.
And even if I were, which I most certainly was not, then why don't we weigh in my 'options', as I so eloquently put it.
Chloe: The beautiful psycho-chic who had tried to kill me more than once, drug me through active war zones lurking with giant robots with machine guns and halfway across a frozen island, glares at me all the time, and, last but not least- called me Sir Chicago.
And then there’s Piper: The also beautiful Viking chic who has been nothing but supportive of my time-traveling habit and who also winks at me a lot and is constantly reminding me of how awesome of a girlfriend she’d be.
So which one do you think is a keeper, whoever-you-are?
That’s what I thought.
At least that’s what I had been thinking when I turned around and noticed Klaus and his goons standing in our path.
Chapter 29