Free Time Enough for Love by Morgan O'Neill Page B

calculation of the Latin date in her head: August sixteenth.
    Adelaide’s hands went to her face and she leaned in, whispering to Gwen, “I am stunned! To have passed so much time, I… My poor daughter, to have been without her mother for so long. I pray she remains safe, wherever she is. And I have missed the Feast of the Assumption by a day. God forgive me, I shall make my prayers of thanksgiving this eve. There is much to be thankful for, after all, for my freedom has been gained, my life spared, praise God and your determined labors. I shall always mark it from the day after Our Lady’s feast day.”
    As silence returned, Gwen again became aware of the steady beat of the oars, her heart seeming to match the slow pace, her mind drifting, embracing the calm.
    Another battle won. Another victory, this time significant. Despite their terrible ordeal, all the heartache and loss, Adelaide was free.
    Gwen glanced back at the glittering stars, wondering where Alberto was at this very moment, wishing she could tell him what they had achieved this day.
    She closed her eyes. Alberto. My Alberto. When will I see you again?
    She held out hope it would be soon.
    *
    The boat pulled into a sheltered cove on the western shore of Lake Garda. The sky was pearly gray, the clouds edged in palest lavender. Dawn approached. Gwen waited in the skiff as Memmo and Father Warinus helped the queen to shore.
    “Most Gracious Queen, Lady Gwendolyn,” the fisherman said, “I have a change of clothing for both of you, should you wish. My son fishes with me most days, and we always carry spare clothes and caps under the seat.”
    Gwen felt around and pulled out the first thing she touched: her leather sack, the one containing her things, including Stefano’s wristwatch and her own. She sighed in relief, because they were all she had from her old life, her most precious belongings. Putting the sack aside, she groped again, found two tightly bound bundles, and started to untie the leather laces securing one of them.
    “Here, Gwen, give them here,” Father Warinus said, motioning for the bundles as Memmo returned to assist her off the boat. Their landing site was isolated, the sandy bank giving way to a thick forest, a good place to take cover.
    Memmo opened one of the bundles. “My queen, I believe my son’s clothes will fit you. My lady Gwendolyn, mine should work well enough for you.”
    “Leggings?” Adelaide whispered to Gwen. “I cannot imagine – it would be unseemly to expose our legs with such attire.”
    “Forgive me,” Gwen said, “but we must be practical. We don’t know how long we’ll have to hide out. Skirts might give us away.”
    Adelaide sighed and took the garments. “Father Warinus, what must you be thinking now? Are you appalled?”
    “No.” The priest chuckled and glanced at Gwen. “God help me, but I’ve grown used to seeing a woman in monk’s garb. A queen dressed as a lad shall not bother me in the least.”
    Smiling, Gwen enjoyed hearing Adelaide’s light, easy laughter.
    The women went off in search of a private spot where they might bathe and change. After helping the queen take off her tattered gown, Gwen removed her cowl and then tentatively placed her foot in the water. It was very cold.
    How much good will it do against the disgusting hole I just came through? she wondered. She found herself wishing for a scrub brush and a big bucket of anti-bacterial soap.
    “Do you really believe these disguises will work?” Adelaide asked as she gingerly stepped into the water.
    “Yes. I was obliged to dress as a monk for a very long time. That cowl protected me as much as anything could,” Gwen said, her teeth chattering in the chill morning air. “I think I’ll miss it, although it would be nice to put on a dress and feel like a woman again.” Bracing herself, Gwen plunged into the lake. Rising to the surface, gasping, she took several strokes, then stood. She rubbed hard over goose bumps and filth,