Eternal Time Shadows Box Set 1 / Volumes 1-10 Read online

  A soldier pushed open the door, and we descended the dark steps.

  A familiar elfin face waited for me below, her eyes pinched and tight. Mary leapt up in surprise, then ran to me, pulling me into a hard embrace. “God, no! Not you too, Elizabeth!”

  I held her tightly. “It’s going to be all right, Mary. We’ll figure a way out of this.”

  I stepped back and looked around.

  The dark room was maybe twelve feet by twelve feet square. Undoubtedly it had once held neatly stacked boxes and elegant supplies for the church above. Now there were only a few grimy mats, stained blankets, remnants of rope, and a pile of broken boards. A pair of torches guttered in cast iron holders on the far wall. Near the torches huddled two women in grimy gowns.

  I blinked.

  “Anna? Sofia?”

  They looked over at me with hollow eyes. Gone was the snobbish delight in demeaning others. Gone was their entitled sense of having the world at their fingertips. Their gaze echoed with the knowledge that they had only scarce hours before their end would reach them – and it would come to the jeers and howls of the crowd.

  My stepmother began to sob. “We’re lost. Oh, John, we are wholly lost.”

  I knew she could be self-absorbed. She could be selfish and petty. But to see her weeping helplessly in my father’s arms, and to see him without any hope, wrenched my core.

  There had to be a way out.

  I turned and looked at the pair of guards who, even now, were walking out through the wooden doorway. In a moment they would close that door on us and we would be trapped within. Trapped until the morning brought our sham of a tribunal – and then death.

  I strode to them, my fingers clenching in resolve. “I demand we see a lawyer.”

  The thinner one with pale blue eyes glanced down my body, a leer coming to his eyes. “Oh, one will be assigned to you at the tribunal. Don’t you worry. He’s top notch. He’s had hundreds of clients already.”

  The second, sporting a scar along his cheek, grinned at his companion. “Thousands, even.”

  The two burst into uproarious laughter.

  “A priest, then,” I insisted. “Surely we deserve someone to care for our spiritual needs.”

  Scar-face waved a hand above him. “You are in a place of God, as much good as that has ever done anyone. There’s enough holy air in here to support a legion of nuns.”

  Blue-eyes chuckled. “It didn’t help that convent that was brought to Madame Guillotine two weeks ago, though, did it? They sang their way up those steps – but their voices went still soon enough.”

  There had to be some way. Something I could say –

  Blue-eyes turned to his fellow soldier. “Come on, let’s get some sleep. I hear they’re bringing in even more tomorrow, after this lot is done with. They’re gearing up for a stream as powerful as a spring flood.”

  I looked around the stone room. The thought of family after family brought through here, sobbing, all hope lost, wrenched me. If only I could somehow throw a bar into the gears of this machinery …

  An idea speared through me.

  I gave a low, shuddering cough.

  Blue-eyes looked over suspiciously at me. “Don’t tell me you’re sick.”

  I put a hand to my throat, as if to shield it from view. “It’s nothing. I swear.”

  He took a step toward me, and I stepped back, staying out of reach. “You don’t want to do that.”

  Blue-eyes turned to scar-face. “Do you think she’s faking it?”

  Scar-face’s eyes narrowed. “It could be. If she just has a cold, then it will hardly matter. The guillotine will take care of any soreness of the throat.”

  His gaze bore into me. “But if it’s something more serious, and she contaminates the bedding down here, we could have trouble. The knitters will be furious with us if suddenly all of their entertainment lapses of fever in these dungeons rather than on public display. These aristocrats need to be tried for their crimes. They need to be brought to justice for all to see. They shouldn’t have delusion salve their minds and shield them from the horrors of what they’ve done.”

  His eyes went to blue-eyes, and a smirk drew on his face. “Besides, you’re the one who put her into the wagon. Whatever she has, you might have it now, too.”

  Blue-eyes looked at his hands in panic, turning them over in the torchlight. He brought his gaze back to me with sharp attention. “What is it? What do you have.”

  I took another step back. “I don’t know. I’m sure it’s nothing. You just get on to sleep.”

  “I’m going to fetch a doctor, is what I’m going to do,” he growled. “And if the doctor tells me you’re faking this all, then your night is going to be much darker than you can ever imagine.”

  A shudder ran through me.

  Then the two stepped through the doorway and slammed the door shut behind them. A key turned in the lock. Then their footsteps ascended the stairs, fading from hearing.

  Silence.

  My stepmother turned to me in horror. “My God, Elizabeth, what have you done! Those men are monsters! If you upset them, there’s no telling what they could do to you!”

  My gaze stayed on the door. “If we do nothing, we will surely die.”

  She stared at me, her breath catching, and then the sobs shook her. She folded against my father as if all hope were lost.

  I settled down to sit facing the door.

  I prayed that hope was on its way.

  The others curled up on the mats and pulled blankets over them, warding off the damp chill of the night. I drew in long, deep breaths, going over every detail of the French Revolution I could remember.

  For centuries the nobles and aristocrats had gotten rich off the backs of the farmers and laborers. France’s recent wars had been costly and the elite’s solution – as always – was to unleash even more burdensome taxes on the workers. In the meantime the clergy ate from golden bowls and drank the finest wine.

  It was a powder-keg, and the success of the American Revolution helped to set it off. When the Bastille was stormed in 1789, a course was set and there was no turning back.

  There was no sympathy for the families which had luxuriated on the suffering of the workers for so many generations. No sympathy for the pompous priests who lived a life of luxury. Nearly forty-thousand people were slain during the revolution, including King Louis XVI and his wife, Marie Antoinette.

  The mobs would barely blink at the death of a few more such as us. We would be a mere moment’s entertainment for them, before they turned to see who was next in line.

  There would be no convincing them of our innocence. Our only hope lay in escape.

  I focused on my breathing, on remaining calm, to be ready for whatever opportunity presented itself. On waiting … waiting …

  A noise.

  There were footsteps approaching. Two men, by the sound of it. My pulse quickened, and I strove to remain calm. If it was the two guards, back to punish me for my story, then maybe that would give me the chance I needed.

  The readiness was all.

  The light of a torch shone beneath the door, and a key turned in the lock.

  I drew to my feet.

  The door pushed open. The blue-eyed guard stood back, a handkerchief over his mouth. He pointed at me.

  “That’s the one, Doctor.”

  A man stepped into the light …

  Robert.

  It was all I could do not to run to him. He was dressed simply, in dark pants and a grey jacket over a tan shirt. His dark hair was tied back at the nape of his neck.

  It was the eyes that held me. Eyes that stared at me in surprised recognition, then growing resolve.

  He nodded to the guard without turning. “If she is infectious, we’ll have to move everyone out of here immediately and burn every item remaining within. Otherwise every other prisoner you put into this room could become infected and escape justice through a quick fever. But for now, you’d better close the door and s
tay back while I examine the patient. I wouldn’t want you falling victim to their foul disease.”

  Blue-eyes quickly nodded in agreement, sliding his hand within his sleeve so that he could yank the door shut without touching the latch. There were footsteps as he hurried back up to the main level.

  Robert stared at me for a long moment. Then he strode over to stand before me, soaking me in. “You … do I know you?”

  I gave him a wry smile. “Do you feel you know me?”

  His eyes were deep, nearly lost in the flickering torchlight. “I don’t think we’ve ever met. I had never left England until two years ago, when the Revolution began claiming innocent lives. Have you ever been to London?”

  My father spoke up from here he lay on a mat with my stepmother. “Elizabeth has never left French soil. Who are you, sir?”

  Robert gave a low bow. “I am Robert Argento. And I am here to help.”

  My stepmother perked up at that. “You’ll help us escape?”

  His gaze came over to me. “When news of the horrors came to us, I began to have dreams. They were confusing at first, of places I had never been to. But as the events here in France unfolded, I began to understand their meaning. There were innocents here – and I was being tasked to rescue them.”

  He reached out a hand, then paused, as if he didn’t believe I was real. His voice lowered to hold deep emotion. “I am here to rescue you.”

  My blush warmed my cheeks. We had been through so much together, he and I. But this time he had risked torture and death to come out for me, to fight for my rescue, all based on his dreams. On wisps of imagination which he trusted were real.

  He glanced behind him at the door. “I have my doctor’s carriage outside. It’ll be a tight fit, but I can get you and your parents wedged beneath it. Their leader, Charles, has gone to do his rounds and that leaves only the one guard awake upstairs. I’ll handle him, bring you three up, and with luck we’ll make it outside of Paris before the alarm is sounded. I have friends waiting in the forest who will get us safely to the coast.”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  He blinked in surprise. “No?”

  My stepmother’s high disbelief sounded behind me. “No??”

  I held Robert’s gaze and reached for his hand. His fingers folded around mine and his breath left him, as if until that contact he had thought me a ghost.

  I gave him a wry smile. “In those dreams of yours, would we ever abandon those who needed help?”

  His eyes flickered to Mary, to Anna and Sofia. His jaw tightened. “Elizabeth, surely –”

  I gave his hand a squeeze. “You know me, Robert. You know what I will say.”

  He drew in a breath, and his eyes shone with respect. At last he nodded, his gaze firming. “You are right. We will find a way.”

  Anna and Sofia struggled to sit, their eyes wide in shock. Anna found her voice first. “You … you would save us? After all we have done to you in the past?”

  I turned to her. “We each have our own faults. My stepmother, my father, you two – I’m sure even Mary, Robert, and I have made countless mistakes over the years. But none of them warrant this end. I imagine you took your wealth for granted. You assumed your fine clothing gave you certain rights.” I looked around the dingy cellar we were confined to. “I imagine you might look at such things differently, going forward.”

  She numbly nodded.

  I twined my fingers into Robert’s. I gave him a small smile. “What better reason to ensure they are given that opportunity?”

  He looked across the six of us, then back to the closed door. His face grew somber. “I am good with the sword, but once we leave this church there are thousands of soldiers between us and safety. I cannot take them all on.”

  “You’re a doctor,” I reminded him. “You do not need to fight your way out. If we do this right, they will hurry you on your way, with all of us in tow.”

  His brow drew together. “And why would they do that?”

  I drew in a breath, holding his gaze. “Because we have the plague.”

  He blanched.

  I pressed him. “The last major outbreak was, what, only fifty years ago? Well within living memory. And it killed over a hundred thousand people here in France. If the jailers thought we were about to launch it afresh, they would want us as far away as possible.”

  His face shadowed. “They would want you all burned alive.”

  My stepmother’s gasp had a desperate edge to it.

  I shook my head. “You’ll remind them that the plague is airborne. That’s why people wear those masks, after all. To keep it at bay. How much worse would it be if our ashes were floating in the air, contaminating every surface? No, you need to get us far outside of Paris and burn us there. That way our ashes do not infect any innocent people.”

  Doubt creased his gaze. “They won’t just take my word for it. They’ll want to see some sort of proof that you’re sick. Proof that I’m not making this all up.”

  I held in the shiver of fear that threatened to course through me. Then I looked up at the torch.

  The blood drained from his face. “God, Elizabeth, no.”

  “It’s the only way. You’re right. They’ll insist on seeing the damage to my body. And the only way we have to create the boils and blackness, the obvious signs of my body breaking down, is that torch there.” I gave a small laugh. “We can hardly track down someone who actually has the plague, infect me, and wait for the symptoms to occur naturally.”

  He could barely speak. “But, Elizabeth – it will be excruciating.”

  I looked at the five lost souls who huddled against the walls, staring at me in shock. “If I do not do this, we all face the guillotine tomorrow. That device was designed to make death as painless and quick as possible. If my choice is that fast, simple death or a life which has moments of pain, and perhaps scars, I choose the latter.”

  My father’s voice was hoarse. “Elizabeth, no. I’ll stay behind. There must be some other way.”

  My stepmother twined her fingers into my father’s hands. I could see the effort it took her to speak. “We’ll … we’ll both stay. You go with the others. I’m sure the four of you could fit. Get to safety.”

  I stared at her. For so long she had seemed solely interested in herself. Solely focused on how she could wring every last coin and satisfaction from life. But here she was, willing to stay behind so that I might have a better chance of escape.

  It hardened my resolve into a steel rod.

  I moved to the wall and lifted the torch out of its cast-iron holder. I brought it over to Robert and handed it to him. Then I lowered myself to sitting. I tore off the bottom hem of my nightgown, folded it several times into a thick wad, and then looked up at him.

  “I’m the one who said I was sick. It has to be me who has the symptoms.” I looked at the torch flickering in the darkness. “I swear, I won’t make a sound. But you have to make the wounds look convincing. Or we’ll all die for my ruse – and I doubt they’ll use anything as clinical as the guillotine to do the deed.”

  He dropped to a knee before me. His voice was reverent. “You are everything my dreams have said – and more. If we had time to think of another way –”

  “But we don’t,” I interrupted, “and our precious seconds are slipping by. Get it done quickly – but be thorough. We must pass the most careful scrutiny.”

  I put the fabric in my mouth, to have something to bite against.

  He laid a hand gently on my cheek, and raw emotion shone in his gaze. The connection shimmered between us more powerfully than I had ever felt it before.

  And then he began.

  There were several times I was sure I would faint from the agonizing pain. Mary held me up on one side, my stepmother on the other, and tears streamed down my face until my eyes could make no more. I could see how close Robert was to stopping the madness, of trying any other solution than this, but I held him with my gaze, my eyes shining with respect. If our
roles had been reversed, and I had to be the one torturing him, I didn’t know if I could go through with it, even knowing the consequences.

  At last he was done. My face was burning with heat from what I had endured, my fingers and toes were blackened, and pustules bulged in various parts of my body. Robert had been meticulously careful never to touch the fabric of my gown in any way. By all appearances it was a sickness which was destroying my body.

  He shakily moved to the cast iron holder and resettled the torch in its location. He leaned his head against the wall. “God, Elizabeth, that you could have endured that. I pray that it is worth it.”

  I could barely remove the fabric from my mouth, so overwhelmed my body was with what it had just gone through. I fought to keep my voice steady. “We will. We will all make it to safety. You have to believe in us.”

  His gaze drew to mine, and the look of trust in his eyes took my breath away.

  His voice was a low whisper. “Wherever you go, I shall be there. If it is into the mouth of Hades itself.”

  My hand trembled as I wiped the sweat from my drenched brow. “Then let us begin.”

  He came over again before me and lowered himself to one knee. Then he ran his hand through my hair and leaned forward in a kiss.

  It was soft, gentle, and shone with powerful emotion.

  With love.

  All the heart-rending pain shimmered away, and suddenly I was beyond it. Beyond this world. All that existed was Robert and me. We were halves of a whole, parts of a sum, and core-deep joy blossomed within me.

  We had found each other. Against all the odds, we had found each other.

  When he drew back, his eyes shone with a powerful emotion I could barely put a name to. Completeness. Pride. Love. A sense that, whatever happened, we would always have this moment.

  We would always have each other.

  He ran a hand gently along my cheek.

  And then he was standing and walking to the door. He drew in a breath, then yanked it open. His voice rose. “Guard!”

  Footsteps came running toward us, and they were halfway down the steps before Robert put up a hand. “Stop! Stop there!”

  The guard’s voice was a tight warble. “What is it? Is she sick?”