Interlude
June 4, 1932 - Florence - Late Evening
Glancing up from the tome, Madelyn noted, with wry amusement, Carlos asleep in his chair, hands clasped in his lap like some Medieval monk, head lolling on his chest, a line of drool sliding from the corner of his mouth.
"Now there's a noble sight," she mumbled. Closing the book hard, with an audible
whump, she chuckled as Carlos jerked awake, head swivelling left and right in momentary panic before it settled on her.
Blinking sleep from his eyes, he grumped, "Long day."
"Nothing to do with all the booze you downed, right?"
Carlos shifted in his chair. "Well, perhaps a little. What time is it?"
Madelyn read the clock on the mantle. "Ten fifteen. Past your bedtime."
The small man frowned, and waved a hand that encompassed the tome and box. "You've been at that all day, Miss York. Isn't it time for a break?"
"Perhaps." Leaning forward, she laid the book on the coffee table and tapped the cover with a delicate finger. "There's so much informative reading in this, Carlos. But how much of it is true? Did you know that Durham, or Dunholm, or whatever, was the center of the Norse universe?"
"Really? What do you mean?"
"Well, Halfdan conquers it. Leaves. The Saxons move in and lay siege. The Vikings come back and chase away the Saxons. Leave. The Saxons return. The Vikings march in again. The Saxons run, though sometimes they
do fight, but get spanked. The Vikings leave. The Saxons return. You get the drift."
Carlos scratched the back of his neck, then yawned. "Yes, Miss York, I think I do." His eyes drifted to the couch. It wasn't the first time he had spent the night here after a day of locating books or researching leads. His own apartment was several miles away.
Madelyn caught the look and sighed. "Oh, all right." She raised a warning finger. "But I'm taking this box with me. For some strange reason I don't entirely trust leaving it out here with you. Call me paranoid."
"If you wish, Miss York, I will." He stood and stretched. "Take it. I promise not to sneak into your bedroom and abscond with the bloody thing. No doubt it will be under your pillow, anyway."
Madelyn placed the tome in the box and closed the lid. "Smart guy. I have a gun."
"And you would use it on me?"
Standing, she shrugged. "Care you find out?"
"Not really. You know, Miss York, sometimes I don't know when you are serious and when you are not."
Madelyn cracked a half smile. "Keeps you on your toes, doesn't it?"
Carlos moved to the couch and sat. A noise from outside drew Madelyn's attention and she went to the balcony doors, opening one and stepping out into the warm summer air. To her right, in the distance, was the famed
Ponte Vecchio, a covered bridge reportedly dating back to Roman times, while below a line of people marched along the Lungarno del Grazie, some with flashlights, others holding aloft torches and banners.
One day there would be war, she reasoned.
"Blackshirts," Madelyn mumbled with distaste. This move to Facism, at the hands of Mussolini, was becoming too dangerous. One day there would be war, she reasoned. And not just some local conflict. Perhaps it was time to move on. Uncle had property in York...
"York! That's it." Clapping her hands, she turned, facing the open door, and said, "Uncle has an extensive library in York, doesn't he? I bet there's lots of interesting secrets to be gleaned from there, eh Carlos? Carlos?" Madelyn stepped back into the apartment, and shook her head as she found Carlos fast asleep on the couch.
Closing the balcony door, she gathered up the box and headed for her bedroom.
York, she thought.
It will take time to arrange travel, pack and move Uncle's important works, but it will be much safer there. Yes. York it is...