“I am the cousin of Lord d’Arsur,” I announced stiffly.
“What?” The guard sent his hand to the hilt of his sword.
I repeated my words slowly, trying to mirror Jean’s accent.
The guard nodded, his forehead still furrowed with worry. I kept going, hoping that my words at least sounded close to Old French. “I just relayed some disturbing news about our family, and he responded worse than I expected. I am sure that within the hour, he will recover. I will inform you if there is no improvement.”
“Where is his squire?” the guard asked. I had no idea who this might be.
“He came alone today,” I said cautiously. “The Lady of the Spring will protect him,” I added, throwing caution to the wind.
The guard nodded his head slowly, inspecting me with renewed interest and respect. When he saw Brunette standing beside me, wagging her tail as I patted her head, he returned to his post. The dog calmed down and lay beside her master dolefully, placing her head on his chest. She looked at me with what looked like reproach.
“He was the one who wanted to do it,” I said self-righteously. If Brunette could have shaken her head disapprovingly, I’m sure she would have. I was still amazed by the ease with which I’d traveled between the two centuries. This was my third time in one day. It was not only as easy as diving into a swimming pool; it also felt physically good, and somehow purifying.
I covered Jean with the cape I found folded on a small rock. While he rested, I rummaged through his bag. I found his wine flask and moistened his lips. With effort, I managed to rip a scrap of material from the red woolen dress and, after washing it with water, tied it around the gash on his wrist.
Then, I sat down beside him and indulged myself by stroking his dark hair. Even disheveled, Jean was incredibly handsome.
When he finally opened his eyes, it was me he looked for. Brunette barked, and Jean reached out with one hand to scratch her behind the ears.
“Are you okay?” I asked, genuinely concerned.
He looked me up and down with what seemed like adoration, which stunned me. I stopped stroking his hair.
“I always thought myself a man of the world,” he said quietly, “a man who has seen everything, even the strangest of sights.” I nodded with understanding. Jean sat up. A small yelp escaped Brunette, and she buried her nose in his chest.
“At the very least, now you know I’m not deranged,” I said.
“You are not deranged,” he agreed. “Nor, methinks, are you a spy. I am not, however, sure if you are a fairy or creature of the devil.”
I looked at him askance. Was he capable of believing I was some kind of a devil?
“A fairy, perchance,” he said with a playful smile. “It all fits—a deserted clearing, a spring, a tree. Édith the Fairy from the Holy Spring of Le Destroit. Who could have known the bedtime stories of an old nursemaid by the fireplace could come true?”
“I’m not a fairy,” I said with a tinge of sadness. “I’m from the future.”
“It is one and the same,” Jean said, gathering my hand to his chest.
Finally, I took the coward’s way out and decided to confront Zozo instead of Halimi. When Halimi and I were just starting out, Zozo made me feel somewhat inferior with her refined lesbian chic. Her beautiful face, buzz cut, high-end men’s suits, and “don’t fuck with me” expression gave the impression that she was a radical feminist who considered every woman who didn’t look and act like her a slave to the patriarchy. A few weeks after we became an item, I admitted to Halimi that Zozo intimidated me.
“You’re kidding me,” Halimi said in disbelief, pulling me toward him. “She adores you,” he drawled. “She thinks you’re super-smart. If anything, it’s Zozo who’s intimidated. She thinks you see her as a mindless clubber.” As time went by, I discovered that Zozo had no real plans, beside enjoying life—with an emphasis on alcohol and women.
Zozo and Halimi certainly had that in common, I reflected bitterly. That evening, he said he was off to have a quick drink with her. An hour later, Nina posted a photo on Instagram of two glasses of hot cider and a pack of Camel cigarettes, with the caption “a warm evening at home with creatures of dubious reputation.” One thing I knew for sure: She didn’t smoke Camels.
I called Libby and asked if there was a chance she could come babysit Lily. I lied and said I had to go to an event honoring a distinguished veteran translator and that it would look bad if I didn’t show up. “Halimi was supposed to be home tonight, but he got held up at work,” I explained.
“That seems to be happening a lot lately,” Libby said. I hadn’t told her a thing. I knew exactly what she’d say.
“Right,” I said in a flat voice. “So, can you come?”
Libby came and hardly said a word to me. She gave me a kiss without looking me in the eye and went straight to the bathroom, where Lily was in the middle of a complicated epic drama with a few rubber ducks and a pirate ship.
“Thanks, Libby-Lou,” I said and kissed her on the cheek.
“My pleasure, Dita,” she said, still avoiding eye contact.
My feet first took me to Nina’s building on Nachmani Street. I wasn’t sure which illuminated window was hers, but I knew which apartment she lived in. I imagined the drama that would unfold if I knocked on her door and how pathetic I’d look. I almost collapsed in the middle of the street at the thought. In the end, I took a taxi and climbed the stairs of the block where Zozo lived in Florentin. I’d been there a few times—we occasionally met up at her place before going out for the evening—but I’d never been there alone, without Halimi.
