The fountain contained a greater amount of water this time, allowing us to propel further ahead in time. Michael directed our journey towards Europe, hoping to leave Egypt and the barren desert behind in search of a more abundant water source that could potentially transport us back home. However, upon our arrival, we discovered that we had been propelled over a thousand years into the future. We found ourselves in Poland, in the year 1000 AD, under the rule of a Catholic king with a family already established. Fortunately, this meant there was no risk of being mistaken for a deity or being forced into unwanted marriages.
To blend in with the era, we rely on the AI to ensure our appearance conforms to the local customs and fashion. Navigating through what can only be described as a dense jungle, with towering trees, buzzing insects, and copious amounts of mud, we realise that the environmental conditions haven't improved significantly. Yet, with the AI as our guide, we navigate through the overgrowth, pushing toward the nearest city, as it seems to be our only viable path forward.
In the midst of our journey, I unwittingly step into a sizable mud puddle, sinking my leg deep, almost up to my knee. Balancing precariously, I frantically attempt to free my sandal from the mire, not wanting to traverse this jungle barefoot. Engrossed in my predicament, I hear Michael's hushed voice beside me, whispering, "Don't move... Don't look... Don't panic... Stay calm..."
"What do you mean?" I whisper back, my voice barely audible as I instinctively lift my head. My eyes fixate on Michael, who remains motionless beside a tree, his hand slowly inching towards his pocket. Standing before him is an immense cat, resembling a panther in size. It gazes at him, its nose wrinkling, its white and grey fur appearing soft and fluffy. However, its formidable teeth, especially the protruding ones on the sides of its mouth, give it an unmistakably menacing presence.
Suddenly, the creature's attention shifts towards me. Transfixed and filled with both fascination and fear, I lock eyes with the massive feline. For a moment, it seems to forget about Michael, captivated by my gaze. Seizing the opportunity, Michael retrieves a handful of white powder from his pocket. With deliberate movements, he cups it in his hand and blows it into the animal's face. The cat shakes its head, squints its nose, and lets out a sneeze. It shakes its head once more, emitting a growl as Michael turns to me and starts running.
"The powder takes a moment to take effect! Run!" he shouts, waving his arms and gesturing towards the trees.
With a determined effort, I wrench my foot free from the clinging mud, swiftly turning to sprint as fast as I can. My heart pounds in my chest as I crash through the dense underbrush, hearing the occasional sneeze from the cat, indicating its relentless pursuit. Glancing over my shoulder, I expect to see Michael close behind, but he has vanished from sight.
Fearful of slowing down, I navigate through the thicket, leaping over branches and maneuvering between scraping bushes that leave scratches on my legs. Although I no longer hear the cat, an ancient instinct urges me onward, warning me that I am being hunted. My feet slip on muddy stones, threatening to engulf me in the mire, but I persevere. And then... I slip and tumble, my gaze fixed upwards as I witness the colossal beast lunging toward me, its jaws wide open, emitting a triumphant roar. In a state of terror, I shield my face with my arm, bracing for the inevitable end.
Yet, to my astonishment, the sound abruptly ceases, replaced by a splattering sensation across my face. Frozen in shock, I remain immobile, awaiting my fate. But nothing happens. Slowly, I lower my hand, revealing my surroundings—a cluster of towering men, clad in animal skins and armed with swords and various other weapons, encircle me. Three of them are splattered with the cat's blood, swiftly retrieving long knives to skin and gut the animal, a putrid odour permeating the air. One of the men approaches, his lengthy hair cascading down, his deep blue eyes fixed on me as he seizes my arm and roughly pulls me upright.
"Let me help you wench," he says with an amused expression.
"Wench? I am not a wench!" I retort, my voice laced with heat. I find myself surprised at the intensity of my reaction, considering the close brush with death I had just experienced.
The man appears taken aback. "Oh really? Then what, pray tell, would be the appropriate title for you, woman?" he asks, a hint of surprise in his voice.
"I am a lady... Lady Bethania," I assert firmly, refusing to be belittled.
"Oh, a lady, is it?" he responds mockingly. "And pray, Lady Bethania, where might you be coming from?"
"From my home," I reply, my tone resolute.
"Your home? I suppose you don't reside in this jungle, then? So where is your home located?" he continues, his amusement giving way to a curious interrogation.
"Britania," I answer, hoping to provide some clarity. "Have you not heard of my land? We are a realm situated in the northern sea."
He appears puzzled. "North? The sea? Are you a Varangian? And how did you find yourself here, so far from the sea?"
"Of course, I am not alone. I am traveling with my father, but we became separated during the beast's attack," I explain, the urgency of my situation urging me to elaborate.
"I see. So, you've come to partake in the Millennium celebration, then?" His tone shifts, his interest piqued.
"Mmm... yes, indeed. We have come to show our support for this great nation and their king. Now that I have answered your inquiries, Sir, you have yet to reveal your name," I assert, eager to redirect the conversation.
"Oh, I am Boleslaw," he responds, the previous jesting tone giving way to a more sincere demeanour.
"Boleslaw?" I can't help but feel a pang of misfortune. Another king?
Recognising my surprise and concern, he quickly reassures me. "Yes, I share the same name as the king, but fear not, Lady, for I am not he. In truth, it is a rather common name in these parts. Half the men here bear it... I honestly do not know what our mothers were thinking," he remarks, raising his eyes as his men arrive with horses and a cart, busying themselves with the spoils harvested from the slain animal.
"My lady, may I accompany you to the city? Perhaps your father has managed to make his way there, and you may be reunited with him during the cathedral celebrations," he offers, displaying an unexpected kindness.
"That is very gracious of you, Sir Boleslaw. I am grateful for your assistance," I reply, relieved at the prospect of being guided to the city.
I am given a place next to the driver on the cart, and we continue our journey through the jungle for a few more hours until we finally emerge atop a hill. The sight that unfolds before me is breathtaking. From this vantage point, I can see the muddy roads winding over various hills, all converging towards the City nestled in the heart of the valley. The Cathedral is a prominent landmark, its grandeur reminiscent of Rome and the Vatican, an impressive sight for these medieval times in Poland.
As we approach, I notice a multitude of people on the roads, some walking while others ride in carriages, all making their way towards the City. Determined to learn as much as I can about this period, I turn to my AI to fill in the gaps in my knowledge.
I discover that the term "Varangian" is used to refer to the Vikings who have settled around the Baltic Sea, establishing numerous royal dynasties that will endure for centuries to come. If they mistake me for a Viking rather than a Briton, it should not pose any problems. Additionally, I learn that we are headed towards a Catholic celebration in Gniezno. The ruler here aims to establish a Polish church structure, independent of the German Archbishopric of Magdeburg, which has been vying for control over the Polish church. This upcoming celebration is said to be a grand spectacle, sparing no expenses, destined to be talked about throughout Europe for years to come.
I begin perusing my AI's collection of images, focusing on the various party dresses worn by princesses of this era for similar celebrations. When in Rome, or in this case, Poland, I think to myself. Ah yes, something along these lines...
Suddenly, a "Save for later?" prompt appears on the side of my view. Yes, I decide to save this dress choice for later, unable to resist a smile at the prospect.
By the time we arrive in the City, evening has descended, and the torches and lanterns illuminate the streets, warding off the encroaching darkness. A shout at the head of the column signals our stop.
Bolesław approaches me and asks, "Do you have any family here? Do you have a place to stay for the night?"
Uncertain of how to respond, apprehensive about potential inappropriate advances, I meet his gaze. "No, my father travels this way frequently, and I had relied on him. This is my first time away from home, and I don't know where to go."
"Do not worry. You can stay with us. I will instruct the servants to prepare a room for you. I will inform the guards to keep an eye out for your father, and if they find him, they will let him know where you are," he reassures me.
"Thank you," I say, expressing my gratitude as he assists me in disembarking from the cart.
He nods, and I take a moment to observe our surroundings. We have stopped in front of a grand wooden house, almost resembling a miniature palace. The property is adorned with gardens and several other buildings. I follow Bolesław inside, and as we enter, we are greeted by a bustling scene. The hallway is filled with people, embracing newcomers with warm hugs and tearful reunions, while others carry bags and trunks down the corridor.
Bolesław addresses a stout woman who approaches us. "Rogelia, this is Lady Bethania, a Varangian who was traveling with her father for the celebration when they became separated in the forest. She will be staying with us tonight, and tomorrow she will accompany us to the Cathedral for the festivities. Could you please prepare a room for her?"
"Yes, my lord," Rogelia acknowledges with a nod, her gaze briefly scanning me from head to toe. My heart leaps into my throat, fearing she may see through my disguise. It's clear that she is not someone to be trifled with.
Turning to me, Bolesław says, "Go and rest before dinner. Rogelia will inform you when the food is ready. I will introduce you to the rest of my family during the meal."
I enter the room designated for me, which proves to be pleasant and inviting. A crackling fireplace provides warmth, and the presence of animal skins and furs strewn about the floor and bed creates a cozy ambiance. Still clad in the dirty and tattered wedding dress from Egypt, I am feeling chilled. I wrap myself in one of the animal skins and sit by the fire, seeking comfort and warmth. Fatigue washes over me as I contemplate the upcoming meeting with Bolesław's family and my lingering worries about Michael and my lack of knowledge to blend in seamlessly. Determined to learn as much as possible, I consult my AI, delving into topics such as women's roles, etiquette, ruling dynasties, and politics of the era.
My thoughts are interrupted by a gentle knocking at the door. Rogelia enters, holding actual clothes for me. I quickly change, instantly feeling warmer and more secure. I still wear my sandals, but this small improvement brings a glimmer of progress.
Once dressed, Rogelia escorts me to the dinner hall. I step into a large chamber filled with tables and long benches. Numerous people, particularly men, are already seated and partaking in the meal, while women and girls serve the food. The room is abuzz with conversation, accompanied by the melodies of a young boy playing a flute in a corner.
As I pass through the door, my eyes search the room for Bolesław, and I find him standing among a group of men engaged in conversation. It seems he senses my gaze because he quickly looks up, our eyes meeting. He smiles and excuses himself from his companions, making his way towards me. "Lady Bethania, please come this way. I will introduce you to my father," he says. I respond with a smile, accepting his invitation, and follow him to the center of the room.
Seated in a large chair is Bolesław's father—a broad and towering figure. His dark hair, streaked with grey, cascades down his shoulders, and his full beard hangs to his chest. Like Bolesław, he possesses piercing blue eyes that are now fixed on me. To his right sits a beautiful woman who also regards me with curiosity. On his left, an empty chair awaits. Bolesław nods respectfully and proceeds to introduce me. "Father, this is Lady Bethania. She is a Varangian..."
As Bolesław recounts the story of our encounter to his father, I suddenly realize that they keep referring to me as a Varangian—a term commonly used for the Vikings in this region. It appears they are unaware of Britain's existence in this century. Confusion flickers across his father's face as Bolesław explains that I come from a land across the northern sea.
I offer a smile to Bolesław's father, sensing the woman beside him assessing me. However, my attention returns to him when his deep voice fills the room. "Good, good. Where is Arne? He should be able to locate her people and her father."
Turning towards me, he continues, "My lady, you are welcome in my home and among my people. We will ensure your safety tonight and make arrangements for your return to your people tomorrow. Today, enjoy our food, drink, and the hospitality of the Polish people!"
"Thank you, my lord. I am honored by your concern and the services rendered by you and your son," I reply with gratitude.
A couple of men approach, and the lord dismisses us kindly. "Go, we will talk later."
Bolesław leads me away, saying, "Please, Lady Bethania, take a seat at the main table and enjoy your evening. You are our guest, and our roof is yours." He gestures towards an empty space at the central table.
"Are you not joining me?" I inquire.
"I will, but first, I must find Arne so that he can send word to your people, informing them of your safety."
"Thank you," I respond, my mind filled with apprehension about this Arne and his potential discovery of my true identity. I can only hope that Michael finds me first and that he is safe.
Sitting at the table, I begin to eat, but my thoughts soon drift to Michael. It is unlike him to abandon me without a word. While he did leave me in the pharaoh's home and orchestrated my marriage to a minotaur, he had explained the situation beforehand. What if something has happened to him? What if he was attacked by another creature in the forest? What if he is lying wounded and dying while I sit here? Would I then be the one who abandoned him? Maybe I should return to the forest in search of him.
Lost in my thoughts, I am interrupted by a man who takes the seat next to me and says, "I heard that you are the lady we rescued in the forest?"
"Yes, that's me," I confirm.
He chuckles, taking a large bite of a chicken leg. "How is it that a Varangian requires assistance against animals? I thought all Varangian women were as fierce as dragons and skilled in the art of the sword." His tone carries amusement.
"Well, most of us are," I respond, searching for an escape from the conversation.
"So what's wrong with you then?" he asks, his tone slightly mocking.
"There is nothing wrong with me," I respond, feeling a tinge of offense.
He grunts and persists, "Why didn't you kill the animal yourself?"
"If you must know, I was not trained in combat or killing. My skills were honed in other areas, serving my people."
He wiggles his eyebrows playfully, asking, "Oh, and what might those skills be?"
I pause for a moment, contemplating what Viking women typically did if they did not engage in battle. "I am a healer," I reply confidently.
"A healer?" His amusement gives way to seriousness.
"Yes," I answer, realising that my knowledge of first aid and medicinal practices could prove valuable to these people. "And who might you be, who has so rudely forgotten to introduce yourself?" I finally ask him
I discover that the man I am conversing with is Ziemowit, the younger brother of Wojciech, who happens to be Bolesław's father and a figure of significant influence. Wojciech is a trader, while most of the men in his family serve as soldiers in the king's army, including Ziemowit and Bolesław. They reside here, assisting when available, but primarily embarking on various adventures and battles alongside the king.
After dinner, I retire to my room, consumed by thoughts of Michael, contemplating whether I should return to the forest and pondering how to make my way back. Eventually, exhaustion takes over, and I drift off to sleep, still concerned for Michael's well-being.