“Oh-you startled me.” Harriet smiled and came in as Steve stepped back. She was tall and slender, about forty years old, with short, wavy brown hair.
Hunter introduced them. “Harriet specializes in late Roman and post-Roman Britain.”
“I love the period,” Harriet said cheerfully. “And I’ve had my dinner and my vaccinations, as you instructed. What comes next?”
“Have you both successfully taken your sleep courses in ancient British and Latin?” Hunter asked.
“Yes,” said Harriet. “I was familiar with both languages, but the course will help me speak them.”
“I took the British, too,” said Steve. “And I updated the Latin from our third mission because Hunter said it had changed some in the centuries that had passed. But what is this British language, anyhow? Did it turn into English later?”
“Not really,” said Harriet. “It’s the language that was spoken in Britain before the Romans arrived, and it coexisted with Latin during their occupation. It later evolved into Welsh, Cornish, and Breton. But what we call English was based originally on Anglo-Saxon and Norman French.”
“But we’ll still need the Latin this time, too?” Steve asked.
“We’ll find a lot of Latin in the time we’re visiting,” said Harriet. “But it doesn’t stay for many more years. Except for some monasteries and place names, Latin disappears and then reenters English again much later.”
“Oh. Shows what I know about it.” Steve turned to Hunter. “Have you told Harriet about Wayne and Ishihara? How they’re trying to beat us to MC 6 and why?”
“Yes, he has,” said Harriet. “He also told me that they kidnapped your friend Jane on your last mission. I’m sure you’re worried about her.”
“Well, yeah. That’s true.” Steve looked at Hunter. “Can we go yet?”
“We will go to the Bohung Institute. The Security vehicle is waiting outside.”
“Good.”
Hunter drove them through the calm, clean streets of the underground city. Steve sat next to Harriet, too tense to speak. The electric motor of the vehicle hummed softly as they drove by humans and robots on their daily routines who were unaware that the secret of time travel, with all its potential danger to change history, lay in their midst.
Before the first mission, Hunter had closed the Bohung Institute. He had arranged for a detail of Security robots to guard it. They allowed his team inside, of course, and they walked to Room F-12.
2
Steve looked around the familiar room. Room F-12 was a large facility that housed an opaque sphere about fifteen meters in diameter. With its console, the sphere could both miniaturize humans and robots to microscopic size and also send them back through time, in either normal or microscopic condition. Countertops lined the rest of the room, filled with computers, monitors, a communication console, and miscellaneous office equipment.
Hunter introduced Harriet to R. Daladier, a robot he had left in the room to apprehend Wayne Nystrom and Ishihara if they returned unexpectedly.
Steve waited anxiously, knowing the team would have to discuss the mission further and change clothes before Hunter would actually take them back in time.
“I arranged to have period costumes made for us earlier today,” said Hunter. He pointed to four neatly folded stacks of clothing on one counter. Four sets of leather boots stood next to them. “Please check them for authenticity. No synthetics have been used.”
“I see four outfits,” said Steve. “We only have three of us this time.”
“We will take a full costume for Jane,” said Hunter. “I expect to find her, but she may need period clothing. She left China in the time of Kublai Khan wearing a robe and trousers from that culture.”
“Right.”
Harriet lifted a long, brown tunic and shook it out. “Tunics for you two. Wool, of course; that’s right. A rope belt. Loosely cut, longer than kneelength. It looks fine.” She lifted another. “This white undertunic is made of cotton. It was expensive in ancient Britain. A sign of prosperity. And I see the shift I will wear under my wool gown is also made of cotton.”
“Underclothing of cotton will be fur more comfortable for you two than wool, fur, or any other acceptable choice,” said Hunter. “I believe the comfort will increase your efficiency. Besides, suggesting a hint of prosperity can be part of the roles we will play.”
“As you decide.” Harriet lifted her gown, also of brown wool. “Full-length, loose, and blousy… long sleeves. Yes, this will be fine, too.”
“What about the boots?” Steve asked.
Harriet picked up one of them. “About these roles, Hunter. What are they?”
“From the historical data I have taken from the city library, I suggest that I play the role of a horse trader from Gaul. You two will masquerade as my wife and servant. Unless you find a flaw in this plan, I would like to say that I wish to move away from the crumbling, unstable Roman Empire in Gaul and raise my horse herds in Britain.”
“Go on.” She put down the first boot and studied another one.
“I learned that southern England in this time has ideal horse-grazing land and that Artorius, the man upon whom the legend of King Arthur was based, led a troop of cavalry. He would have to be concerned about a reliable source of mounts for his men.”
“Hold it,” said Steve, grinning in spite of his eagerness to get on their way. “We aren’t taking any horses with us. You can’t horse-trade without them.”
“I propose to say that I am looking for land in Britain before bringing my herd over the Channel,” said Hunter. “Would this sound reasonable?”
“The boots are acceptable, too.” Harriet paused thoughtfully as she put the last boot down. “Yes, your story will be plausible, though you could improve on it. However, bringing something to trade would be more convincing. You could be an ironworker, a trader in silver, a soldier…the list of possibilities is very long.”
“I chose the role after due consideration,” said Hunter. “I must playa role that will carry some prestige without having to take material objects into the past. We must take some coins and our clothing, but every item we take increases the chance of influencing history in a way we do not intend and cannot predict. The role of soldier might put Steve into greater danger than I would prefer.”
“Ah-you’re a believer in chaos theory as applied to the events of history.” She smiled, amused.
“I no longer believe in the most pure and extreme form of chaos theory,” said Hunter. “My team has made five missions into the past without altering our own time in any way that I can detect.”
“Good. Then you’re coming around to my way of thinking about this.”
“Not entirely,” said Hunter. “I tell each historian I hire that I do not know where the threshold of significant change lies. If I can go into the past as a horse trader so that we do not have to take any merchandise with us, then we take the least risk.”