#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 108 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus

#Wss366 skate #TimeTravelAuthors 06/5. A relationship you love in your story

I followed Emily’s gaze across the shrine’s courtyard to the priest who was now approaching. I dematerialized the mask. The Coptic robes were going to be problematic enough without the mask adding complications. I might have #skated by fooling Byzantine Christians, but these were real Copts.

The man stopped a few paces away and examined me. Then, in barbarous French, he said, “Come, she awaits you.”

“Who is ‘she?’” Emily asked.

I didn’t answer, of course. Not only didn’t I know, but the priest was too close not to have noticed me speaking.

He led me to a room off to the side of the courtyard. At a glance, I could tell it wasn’t the main shrine. Instead of an altar, icons decorated the bare walls. Their lamps shed a faint light over the chamber, scenting the air. Cowled figures rose from where they sat around a table.

I recognized the bodyguards who had accompanied us earlier. Their scowls remained unchanged. To them, I was still an outsider. There were two other people present: a priest in finer vestments and our original guide. Her (And I do mean her) cowl was thrown back, revealing the face of an Egyptian woman with dark hair and darker eyes.

“Two can play at that game,” Emily said. “But she does a better job.”

As much as I like Emily, it wasn’t the place for that. Had she forgotten that our guide could see and probably hear her?

“I bid you welcome, travelers. I am Georgina of Alexandria,” the woman said. “Will you sit and refresh yourselves? You are safe here, and we have much to discuss. The Illuminated Ones are meeting tomorrow, so we have little time.”

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#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 107 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus

#Wss366 stake #TimeTravelAuthors 06/3 raise/rise)

The evening had cooled, and the streets were nearly empty. Mosquitoes had replaced the daytime flies. The stench was unchanged.

The servant hurried us along. His glances around him revealed his nervousness.

Emily scouted ahead. This was an occupied city, temporarily ruled by the iron-fisted Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon. We had yet to learn what their link was with the Lapin Cabal, though it seemed clear one existed. Why else would the Templars be hunting us?

The Shrine of Saint George was nearby, and we soon arrived there unharmed. The servant took his leave as we entered a torch-lit courtyard.

Emily and I stopped just inside the arched opening and stood in the shadows to talk. A priest across the yard glanced my way but made no move to investigate.

“What occurred back there?” my partner asked. “Did you really create a relic?”

“Yeah, I think so. Don’t ask me how. When I tried manifesting one a second earlier, I couldn’t, but when I broke off that piece of the crown, it was magical. I didn’t ask for that; it just happened.”

“I lost my faith a long time ago, but I have to ask: Are you a saint? You’re not like any ghost I’ve ever heard of.”

“Absolutely not! I’m not even a Christian. That whole idea makes me very uncomfortable.”

“What if the priest were right?”

“I wouldn’t #stake my ‘life’ on it.”

“Ha ha. A holly #stake, no doubt.”

“I’m #rising in the world,” I thought. “My bad jokes are getting a response.”

“Furthermore, I would ask, which priest and about what? You just saw a Buddhist impersonating a Copt perform a miracle: a fraud, a flagrant liar, and most would say an unredeemable heretic. How does that fit into any conventional theological framework?”

She nodded.

“Regardless, it means something, but what? Why could I manifest a relic?”

She nodded again and turned toward the sound of footsteps crossing the courtyard.

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#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 106 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus

#Wss366 buzz #TimeTravelAuthors Whatever)

The meal was excellent, and I resisted the urge to overindulge in the roast lamb, fragrant with garlic and rosemary. Communal loaves of bread accompanied the dinner. I was surprised to find that it was white, though still coarser than what I was accustomed to. There were greens as well, and lentils stewed with onions and cumin. The Delphinas had plainly spared little in welcoming me. It almost made me feel guilty for deceiving them.

Cool, watered wine, faintly scented with bitter orange, accompanied the food. Emily didn’t need to remind me to drink sparingly. Heavy drinking was inappropriate for the role I played, as well as socially gauche and dangerous.

At the end of the dinner came honey cakes and dried fruit. Despite my attempt to eat sparingly, I was stuffed. Honestly, it was the best meal I could remember having. While the meals on the Hindenburg and Titanic were superbly prepared, they were pretentious. The food here was cooked with love and impressed one by its own merits rather than fancy ingredients.

When the meal was done, I murmured a prayer blessing the family, and then I gave my excuses for needing to leave for the shrine. I was sure the tutor was relieved to hear that, even if Zoé’s face fell when he interpreted what I said.

The master of the house provided me with a servant to light my way.

At the door, the wife pressed upon me small loaves of bread, wrapped in cloth. The scholar translated, “For the road, holy pilgrim.”

The daughter rushed forward, pressing a bundle of honey cakes into my hand. In turn, I attempted to manifest a fragment of St. Catherine’s Wheel to present to her, but was horrified when it failed to appear. I was unsure why. Manifestations had always succeeded as long as they were period-appropriate. Had I overreached? Perhaps what I’d asked for was a holy relic like the lance we had seen in the British Museum, and if so, why didn’t I get a substituted sliver of ordinary wood similar to how I had manifested rough natural chalk in the coral pyramid?

I still wanted to give the child something and to show my appreciation for the hospitality I had received, so I reached up and broke off a small fragment of the carved crown of thorns decorating my mask. When I held it out, the wood gave off a faint glow.

The mother gasped, and everyone signed themselves. From somewhere came the #buzz of amazed servants. Personally, the miracle shocked me speechless. Most surprising of all, the tutor fell to his knees and begged, “Forgive me, holy one.”

Finding my voice again, I said, “You don’t need my forgiveness. Your faithfulness to your master suits you well. May the Lord bless you for it.”

With that, I left the stunned family behind.

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#TimeTravelingGhost EP 10: Post 105 1191, Nicosia, Cyprus

#Wss366 spar #TimeTravelAuthors 06/1. break)

The tutor translated my request, which was met with approval and caused Zoé to beam.

Emily shook her head and said, “You’re quite the masher. Look at her; she has totally fallen for you.”

Indeed, the girl in question was directing doe eyes at me. The sobriety of prayer was nowhere to be found in them. If I were staying, both the scholar and I would have had to worry about her virtue.

After that, dinner was surprisingly uneventful. My hosts and I didn’t share a common language, so I was not obliged to talk with them. The tutor refrained from religious #sparring, though he started a conversation. Whether it was to trip me up or he was genuinely seeking information, I never knew. He began by asking, “What news have the Marseille Copts received of the Crusades?”

“That Salah ad-Din had retaken the Jerusalem, but that a vast host of English and Frankish soldiers are poised to retake it at any moment,” I said. “We hadn’t learned that Cyprus had been seized, or that Richard had sold it to the Templars.”

“And what do you think of the holy war?”

Rather than answering the more fraught question of my personal opinion, I chose to answer the question: “What did my community think?”

“Many hope to see the lands in Christian hands, and others are just glad to be rid of those whose violence spills into the streets of our cities.”

My host said something to the tutor, who fell silent, giving me a #break from the questioning.

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