Betrothed. Morgan Rice
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she had ever seen. Its entrance was heralded by a huge, arched gate, with guards on either side. At its top were multiple spikes, on which sat severed heads, blood dripping from their throats, impaled on the spikes. It was a gruesome sight, and Caitlin averted her gaze.
"I remember this," sighed Caleb. “From centuries ago. This is how they always adorned their bridges: with heads of prisoners. They do it as a warning to other criminals.”
"It's horrific," said Caitlin, as she lowered her head, and they walked quickly onto the bridge.
At the base of the bridge, booths and vendors were selling fish, and as Caitlin looked over, she could see boats pulling up, and workers carrying the fish up the muddy banks, slipping as they went. The entryway to the bridge stank of fish, so much so that she had to hold her nose. Fish of every type, some still moving, were laid out on small, makeshift tables.
“Snapper, three pence a pound!" someone yelled out.
Caitlin hurried past, trying to get away from the smell.
As they went, the bridge surprised her again, as she discovered that it was filled with shops. Small booths, vendors, lined the bridge on either side, as foot traffic, livestock, horses and carriages squeezed in the middle. It was a chaotic, crowded scene, with people calling out in every direction, selling their wares.
"Tannery here!" someone yelled out.
"We'll skin your animal!" yelled another.
“Candle wax here! The finest candle wax!”
“Roof thatching!”
“Get your firewood here!”
“Fresh quills! Quills and parchment!”
As they progressed further, there were nicer shops, some selling pieces of jewelry. Caitlin couldn’t help but think of the gold bridge in Florence, of her time with Blake, of the bracelet he had bought her.
Momentarily overwhelmed with emotion, she drifted off to the side, held onto the railing, and looked out. She thought of all the lifetimes she’d already lived, all the places she’d been, and felt overwhelmed. Was this all really true? How could one person have lived so many lives? Or would she just wake up from all of this, back in her apartment in New York City, and think that this had all just been the longest, craziest dream of her life?
"Are you okay?" Caleb asked, coming up beside her. "What is it?”
Caitlin quickly wiped back a tear. She pinched herself, and realized that she was not dreaming. It was all real. And that was most shocking of all.
“Nothing," she said quickly, putting on a forced smile. She hoped he hadn’t been able to read her thoughts.
Caleb stood beside her, and together, they looked out, right down the middle of the Thames. It was a wide river, and completely congested with traffic. Sailboats of every size navigated their way through, sharing the waters with rowboats, fishermen’s boats, and every type of vessel. It was a bustling waterway, and Caitlin marveled at the size of all the different craft and sails, some climbing dozens of feet into the air. She marveled at how quiet the waters were, even with so many vessels in it. There were no sounds of engines, no motorboats. There was just the sound of the canvas flapping in the wind. It relaxed her. The air up here, with the constant breeze, was fresh, too, finally free of smells.
She turned to Caleb and they continued strolling back down the bridge, Ruth at their heels. Ruth started whining again, and Caitlin could feel her hunger, and wanted to stop. But everywhere she looked, she still could not find any food. She was getting hungrier herself.
As they reached the middle of the bridge, Caitlin was shocked, once again, at the sight before her. She didn't think that there’d be anything left to shock her after seeing those heads on the pikes – but this did.
Right there, in the center of the bridge, three prisoners stood up on a scaffold, nooses around their necks, blindfolded, barely clothed, and still alive. An executioner stood behind them, wearing a black hood, slits for his eyes.
"The next hanging is at one o’clock!” he screamed out. A thick and gathering crowd huddled around the scaffold, apparently waiting.
"What did they do?" Caitlin asked one of the crowd members.
"They were caught stealing, Miss," he said, not even bothering to look her way.
“One was caught slandering the Queen!” an old lady added.
Caleb led her away from the gruesome sight.
“Watching executions seems to be a daily sport around here," Caleb commented.
“It's cruel," Caitlin said. She marveled at how different this society was from the modern day, at how much tolerance it had for cruelty and violence. And this was London, one of the most civilized places of 1599. She could hardly imagine what the world was like outside of a civilized city like this. It amazed her how much society, and its rules, had changed.
They finally finished crossing the bridge, and as they stood at its base, on the other side, Caitlin turned to Caleb. She looked at her ring, and read aloud again:
Across the Bridge, Beyond the Bear,
With the Winds or the sun, we bypass London.
"Well, if we’re following this correctly, we’ve just ‘crossed the bridge.’ Next would be ‘Beyond the Bear.’” Caitlin looked at him. “What could that mean?"
“I wish I knew," he said.
"I feel as if my father is close," Caitlin said.
She closed her eyes, and willed a clue to come along.
Just then, a young boy, carrying huge pile of pamphlets, hurried past them, shouting as he went. "BEAR BAITING! Five pence! This way! BEAR BAITING! Five pence! This way!”
He reached out and shoved a flyer into Caitlin's hand. She looked down, and saw, in huge letters, the words “Bear Baiting,” with a crude picture of a stadium.
She looked at Caleb, and he looked at her at the same time. They both watched the boy as he began to disappear down the road.
“Bear baiting?" Caitlin asked. “What's that?”
“I remember now,” Caitlin said. “It was the big sport of the time. They would put a bear in a circle, and tie him to a stake, and bait him with wild dogs. They take bets on who wins: the bear or the dogs.”
"That's sick," Caitlin said.
"The riddle,” he said. “‘Across the bridge, and Beyond the Bear. Do you think that could be it?”
As one, they both turned and followed the boy, now off in the distance, still shouting.
They made a right at the base of the bridge and walked along the river, now on the other side of the Thames, heading down a street named "Clink Street." This side of the river, Caitlin noticed, was very different from the other. It was less built up, less populated. The houses were also lower here, more crude, this side of the river more neglected. There were certainly fewer shops, and thinner crowds.
They soon came upon a huge structure, and Caitlin could tell, from the bars on the window and the guards standing outside, it was a prison.
Clink Street, Caitlin thought. Aptly named.
It was a huge, sprawling building, and as they passed, Caitlin saw hands and faces sticking out of the bars, watching her as she went. Hundreds of prisoners were crowded in there, leering out at her, yelling crude things as they passed.
Ruth growled back, and Caleb came closer.
They walked further, passing a street with a sign that read “Dead Man's Place.” She looked to her right and saw another scaffold, with another execution being prepared. A prisoner, shaking, stood on a platform, blindfolded, a noose around his neck.
Caitlin was so distracted, she almost lost sight of the boy, as she felt Caleb grab her hand and guide her further down Clink Street.
As they continued, Caitlin suddenly heard a distant shout and then a roar. She saw the boy, in the distance,